#and she’s like light gray maybe a little lavender even

[hobermallowed]

Rinat…my beloved….

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin’ Way To Start The Day

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy,

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The morning begins the same way it always does, with your neighbor Mike blasting "I Will Always Love You" in his apartment at exactly 8 am just as he had each day since you met two years ago. It was the only constant in your life, but at least you didn't have to use an alarm clock anymore. The sound of Mike belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs was enough to wake everyone in the whole building, including the people on the eighth floor, five stories above him.

But because Mike bought the super’s probably illegally made cologne and because the super was dating Mike’s mother, something that made you regret supe hearing very much, it never stopped despite the numerous complaints.

Then again it was Annie's favorite thing about sleeping over, she liked to scream the lyrics back at the wall and jump on your bed like a crazy banshee. Honestly you hoped that it would stop after Ben had pretended to be your boyfriend, that Mike would finally figure it out and give up.

Guess not.

You sit up in your bed, stretching your hands over your head while humming the chorus under your breath, but you were more of an ABBA fan. If Mike had decided to serenade you with "Take A Chance On Me" or even Aretha Franklin's "You're All I Need to Get By," you might have looked at him differently.

The memory of the dream of his mullet smothering you in your sleep momentarily passes over your mind, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. Or maybe not.

Your bedroom was similar to your living room, covered in plants. Trailing jasmine and bougainvillea blanketed the wall behind your bed in deep red and white, budding lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle sat in pots along the top of your dresser, and a blush colored rose bush, that never went out of bloom, stood proudly in the corner. The only difference was that there were two large piles of books almost as tall as your ceiling, some old some new, braced beside the rose bush like Roman columns. You kept trying to remember to buy a bookshelf, but each time you thought about going to pick one up, Butcher usually called and asked you to help out. Both piles were covered almost completely in pothos and more hung from the brick walls above your only window, that opened the floor length pale yellow curtains with a flick of your hand.

An annoyed purring sound greets your ears as the honeyed light from the now open window wisps over your covers. Bean, your cat, stalks up from the end of the bed, his yellowed eyes narrowed with annoyance at being woken up so early while his charcoal gray coat turns lighter in the brilliant sunlight. Last night he had been in your bedroom when you got home, which meant that he hadn't been around Ben when he came in.

A good thing, because Bean hated just about everyone except Butcher, which you thought was weird. But whenever Butcher dropped by to talk to you Bean always came over to look for rubs, while hissing at anyone who tried to interrupt them. Hughie was actually afraid of Bean, and because Bean was a cat he immediately picked up on this and purposely would jump on the couch next to Annie so Hughie couldn't sit there, Bean also followed after Hughie to the bathroom and waited outside the door to swipe at his ankles whenever he would come out.

But you didn't love him any less.

He puts his paw on your thigh lightly extending his claws to get your attention.

"Oh are you talking to me now?" You smile, rubbing him behind the ears. "I thought you were angry because I woke you up?"

He purrs and pushes his chunky gray head against your hand, but startles when the song switches to "My Heart Will Go On" which causes Mike's mother to join in to his karaoke session.

I'd move if my apartment wasn't so damn cheap.

"Maybe they should take the show on the road. Huh buddy?"

Bean purrs his response while pushing his head further into your hand.

His mom wasn't that bad of a singer, in fact, you thought that you remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between her and the super when she talked about a career as a cabaret singer a while ago.

"Come on, let's see if Gramps killed any of my plants." You smile down at your cat. "If he did I'm going to turn him into a tree."

Bean purrs in agreement.

You get out of bed, adjusting your shirt back down over your shorts before walking to the door with Bean following behind you. You step out into the cool hallway, with more enthusiasm than usual as you try to escape the butchering of the Titanic's soundtrack and collide into something warm and wet.

It takes you exactly seven seconds to realize that the warm, wet, thing that your face is currently stuck to, is in-fact Ben's chest, his shirtless chest. Why he's standing in the hallway outside your door, soaking wet and wearing a towel you have no idea. All you know is that your face is physically laying against the warm flesh of his pectoral muscles.

"Why are you NAKED?" You scream as you peel yourself off of him and turn your gaze away. Your face felt so warm that it was like you'd been standing in front of a volcano for too long and you were sure that you had blushed to the roots of your hair.

You'd only seen him without his shirt on once, when the door to his bedroom was cracked at the apartment he shared with the rest of the group. But it was from the back and you had been walking by to go to the bathroom, and you hadn't looked…

Well, you may have stopped for a second to admire the powerful muscles on his muscular back and maybe thought about waiting for him to turn around so you could see if the front was as good as the back… but you hadn't.

And he certainly hadn't been soaking wet then, and it made you hate him more now, because no one should look as good as he does soaking wet. You personally knew that you looked like a drowned poodle whenever you stepped out of the shower, but him? Soldier Boy looks like he just finished filming a shampoo commercial.

You could see it in your head, him standing under a crystal blue waterfall with the water splashing against weathered rocks before running through his soft brown hair, curving around his broad shoulders, down his toned stomach straight down to his-

NO. Not gonna go there. You could feel your skin heating in embarrassment, almost as if you thought he could read your mind.

"I'm not naked doll, I mean I could be if you wanted me to." He smirks as he hears your heartbeat begin to pick up and reaches for the end of his towel. The towel that was almost too small to wrap around his waist and left very little to the imagination.

"NO!" You shout holding up a hand to stop him, but again brush the front of his chest.

Fuck, you could zest a lemon on those abs.

"Are you sure?" Ben smiles wider, taking a step forward. He's so close that you can smell your grapefruit mint shampoo on him and feel the humidity and warmth of his body as he stands there. For some reason the fact that he used your shampoo, and smelled like your soap, made you feel warm and tingly. It was almost hypnotic. You hated how much you liked it. "Because you're turning that cute little red color you always do whenever I'm around, and your heartbeat is kinda fast."

"No. I don't." You grit your teeth together. "Why are you standing outside of my door naked?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you to come out." His hand presses against the doorway next to your head. "You know, I already took a shower, but if you wanted I'd be happy to get back in with you."

"No thanks. I don't need a shower and I wouldn't shower with you if it was the last shower on earth and I hadn't bathed in forty years." You purse your lips. "Oh right, that happened to you."

Ben frowns at your mention of his time in Russia. You didn't often tease him about being trapped in a lab, you knew that it was a sore spot for him. Plus you'd seen the footage of exactly what those doctors did to him and it was enough to make you want to book a one way ticket to Russia and personally show them what happened when a tree got shoved up your ass.

You open your mouth to apologize.

"I was going to ask if you have any other clothes here. Mine are still wet from last night." He raises an eyebrow, but the humor is gone from his eyes.

"Oh. Um. I can take a look." You turn and walk into your bedroom, trying not to feel awkward about bringing up the lab.

He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve a reminder of how shitty the last forty years have been.

Truthfully, you weren't sure if you had anything that would fit him. Ben was a lot bigger than you, taller and broader. You usually did wear things that were a little big for you, but you didn't think that Ben would fit in any of them.

Maybe I have something from when my brother was here last time.

Darren often dropped by when he was in the city visiting his friends or had a new "business" venture. The ones that never seemed to last and the friends that always seemed happy to spend the moan you "loaned" him for his "best idea yet" as he always phrased it. But he hadn't been by in at least a year.

"It's really green in here too." You hear Ben say under his breath.

You didn't think that he was going to follow you into your room, you thought he was going to stay in the hallway, but no, he had followed you. And he made the room feel even smaller than it was with his broad shoulders and over six foot stature.

The sunlight from the window glinted off his still wet chest and it made your throat uncomfortably tight. For the love of chocolate pudding, WHY does he look so good all the time?

"You can wait in the hall-"

"Wanted to see your bedroom." He smirks. "Though I think that you wanted to show it to me last night-"

You ignore him and turn back to your chest of drawers while Mike and his mother switch to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. You wince as they begin.

"Do they always do that?" Ben asks.

"Yep. Since I moved in." You sigh, shuffling through your t-shirts.

"He's really got it bad Sweetheart. Maybe you should throw him a bone. Kinda seems like the poor guy needs to get some ass-"

"If it's any of your business- which it's not- I do not like him that way."

"Well they're a little loud." You feel Ben take a step closer to you. "But I bet you and I could give them a run for their money. We are in your bedroom after all, might as well make the most of it."

"I didn't know that you liked Karaoke. I'll keep that in mind for you 105th birthday party."

"What? No I meant-"

Bean purrs loudly from his position on your bed and you wait for the telltale sound of Ben shooing him away when Bean tries to puncture Ben's impenetrable skin with his claws, but it doesn't come.

You glance over your shoulder. Are you kidding me?

Bean is sitting on your white plush comforter, rubbing up against Ben's hand, purring while Ben scratches him behind the ears.

Traitor.

"Didn't know you had a cat." Ben says continuing to stroke his hand down Bean's spine, who stands up and turns so Ben can have a better angle.

"I didn't peg you for a cat person. Kinda ruins the whole all-American Man image you have going on."

He shrugs. "I like dogs more, but I don't hate cats. Usually they don't like me very much."

"I wonder why that is." You grumble watching Bean lean into Ben's hand again. "His name is Bean."

"Bean? Why?"

"Because when I got him I was trying to grow green beans in the linen closet and he would sit outside the door and screech until I gave him a green bean to play with."

"You were trying to grow green beans in the linen closet?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good idea, but they like the bathroom more-" You finally find the oversized Led Zeppelin shirt your brother left the last time he crashed at your apartment and a pair of jeans. "A lot of my plants like the bathroom more actually."

"I was going to ask you why the bathroom floor and wall was squishy."

"It's moss. It thrives in humid environments." You hold out the clothes for him.

"Uh-huh." He frowns at the clothes for a minute. "So you're saying you wouldn't want a guy to serenade you like that?" Ben nods his head towards your bedroom wall, just as Mike and his mother begin to belt out the chorus. "Thought girls liked sappy shit."

"I'm not a fan of One Direction."

"Right. You like ABBA more." Ben turns towards your door to go back to the bathroom to change.

Shock momentarily spikes in your chest. "How did you know that?"

He freezes as if you caught him doing something bad, turning slightly towards you. "Um- well, you hum their songs a lot."

"When?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Whenever you're on stake outs. Sometimes when you're reading those files or waiting for Annie at the apartment." He shrugs. “When you were walking last night you were humming ‘Fernando.’"

He noticed that?

"How long exactly were you following me?"

"Long enough." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to keep me talking because you want me to change in here? Because I would be more than happy to drop this towel and show you what a real man looks like Sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself Gramps. If you drop that towel the only thing that'll happen is Bean will think you brought him a green bean to play with." You roll your eyes. "Now get out of my room. I have to change."

Ben begins to say something, but the vines hanging above the door push him out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

That felt good.

After you put on a white t-shirt, your favorite pair of jean overalls and your dark green converse, you make your way out into the living room. Ben is there, lounging on your couch like he owns it. He’s wearing the jeans and t-shirt you gave him, but you can't help but notice how the clothes are just a little too small for him. The way his muscles pull at the t-shirt, the way the jeans hug his thighs and butt-

He's getting way too comfortable here. You think to yourself to avoid the thought of how good he looks on your couch. How it almost feels natural that he's sitting here in your living room, inhabiting your space.

"So what's for breakfast doll face?" He leans his head back to gaze at you with a mischievous smile that makes a warm tingle travel down the length of your spine.

"Well, I'm going to have oatmeal and you're going to have whatever you want I guess?"

His eyes darken. "Whatever I want?"

"Calm down Gramps I meant that there's cereal in the cabinet." You roll your eyes to avoid thinking about the kiss last night and then thinking about how it felt for your body to be pressed against his in the hallway when you ran into him.  Which inevitably leads back to the waterfall fantasy and-

No. No. Not going to do that. Not with him. He's just good at getting women into bed, he doesn't care about you. You think about how he remembered that you liked ABBA. That doesn't mean anything. He doesn't see me as anything more than a conquest and he probably remembered that because he's changing tactics and trying not to act like a creep.

“You’re not going to pour me a bowl?” His smirk pulls down in an attractive pout.

“I think it’s simple enough for your little brain to do.” You don’t turn around from the kitchen cabinets, grabbing a raspberry from the refrigerator and popping it in your mouth. For some reason you noticed that whatever you grew tasted better than anything you bought at the grocery store. You hoped that it didn’t mean that your powers supercharged whatever you grew and that it was actually radioactive or something. 

Because that’s exactly what I need, to turn bright green. 

“There’s nothing little about me doll.” 

“Can’t you ever have a conversation with someone without it revolving around sex?” You grumble banging around in your cabinets to find your instant oatmeal. 

It was a valid point and you were tired of getting whiplash every time Ben acted caring and then flipping back to horny manchild.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben laughs. He stands from the couch and makes his way into your kitchen.

It was hard not to notice how small each room in your apartment looked with him in it. His head was only a foot below the ceiling, not to mention the kitchen was only composed of six cabinets, a small sink, a microwave shoved into a corner, a stove top, and a refrigerator that only came up to Ben’s shoulders. Your bathroom was worse, sometimes the shower was small even for you and you didn’t know how Ben fit in there. 

He probably had to duck down to stand under the shower head. 

And then as you thought that, the image of Ben standing under a waterfall comes creeping back, making the strawberry plant on top of the fridge, the raspberry vines, and the blackberry vines covering your refridgerator burst into bloom.

Thankfully Ben didn’t notice, because he was rooting through the white top cabinet in the corner for one of the cereal boxes. 

I’d never hear the end of it if he saw that happen. 

You glare at the plants in question, eyes shifting to a deep green as the flowers develop into fresh fruit to cover your slip. 

Ben pulls out a box of Lucky Charms, but frowns at Lucky on the front cover, who is throwing a handful of marshmallow charms into the air around him. 

Guess he's not a fan.

 “If I’d known you were going to sleep on my couch I would have gotten Bran flakes and prunes for you.” You smirk as you pour water over the oats in the bowl before placing it in the microwave to cook. “I know people your age need that kind of thing sometimes. Gets the bowel moving.”

“Make fun of my age all you want.” Ben steps around you to grab the almost empty bottle of milk from your refrigerator. “One day you’ll be happy to find out just how experienced I am.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “You’re all I dream about baby.”

You can feel his breath on the side of your neck from how close he is to you, the kitchen seems smaller than it ever has, and he leans forward, sensing your hesitation. One of his hands goes on the kitchen counter to your right, the other places the milk down and then braces on the counter to your left caging you against him. 

“Do any of your lines actually work?” You say, throat tight.

“You’d be surprised.” He smirks wider, green eyes sliding up and down your body. 

 The air in the kitchen electrifies, something passing through the air between the two of you that makes you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His eyes are softer green now, reminding you of the color of fresh leaves on an oak tree in spring, bright, strong, and full of life. His body is pressed gently against yours, the strong muscles of his abdomen laying on your hips, muscular arms making sure that you don't walk away.

You try not to think again about how good he looks in your apartment, how calm and relaxed he seems when he’s away from Butcher and not wearing his uniform. 

Standing here in your apartment, he looked normal, human. Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were, when you could do what you did, when you saw him get hit with a car and shove it away with one hand. 

He was still ridiculously attractive, the kind of attractive that you’d read in romance novels and in classic Roman literature, the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, the kind of ruggedly handsome that made smart girls stupid. 

You were really feeling that last one. Because you were desperately trying to hold on to your dream of being with someone that understood every part of you, but Ben was making it hard.

It wasn’t that the idea of sleeping with him was terrible. It wasn’t. It was far from terrible it was the idea of having sex without feelings that you didn’t like. You didn’t want to sleep with him because you knew that he only saw you as something to be possessed not as an equal or someone he cared about. Soldier Boy only cared about himself, that was apparent.

He’s only interested in you because you haven’t given in. You think to yourself. It's all about the thrill of the chase, nothing else. I'm worth more than that. I'm worth more than one night.

“In fact, I think it’s working on you doll.” Ben leans down towards you so close you can feel his words in the air between your faces, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say no.

That made you pause. Ben didn’t seem to be the type of man who was patient. You’d walked in on him making out with numerous women on the couch back at the apartment he shared with the rest of the team, saw how he took control, saw how he didn’t seem to wait for them to say no or really say anything at all. Not to mention one time when you walked into the shared apartment and could hear Ben with one of his "dates" in his bedroom. Nothing about that seemed patient at all.

But this Ben standing in your kitchen was different. He was almost smiling, dark hair still damp from the shower curling on his forehead, the t-shirt damp around the collar, jeans a dark blue, and the smell of your shampoo fills your senses again all over again. It made you wish for this person all the time. The one that you could see yourself falling in love with, not the racist, sexist, and inappropriate jerk that seemed to dominate his persona at all other parts of the day.

Funny, the only time you’d ever seen Ben like this, was when the two of you were alone- well sometimes- other times he annoyed you without end and made you want to jump out a window. 

But why? Why only around me?

The feeling in your chest grows. It jumps from synapse to synapse, pulses along your skin, buzzes in your blood, tangles through your hair, and radiates through the air like a sound wave. Your eyes drift down to his lips remembering exactly what it was like to kiss him last night. How he seemed to consume you whole, how everything else fell away, how Ben curled himself around you, how he-

Your cell phone rings, breaking through the moment, and making you remember exactly why you didn’t want to give in to Ben and remember the kind of person he was. 

You push him away and pull your cellphone out of your pocket. Butcher's photo and name appear on the screen.

Shit.

"Hey Butch, what's up?" You look away from Ben, forcing yourself to calm your racing heart.

Ben perks up at the mention of Butcher’s name.

“Do you have any idea where Soldier Boy is?”

“Soldier Boy?”

“Seems like our blunt smoking man out of time has vanished. Been trying to text him all bloody morning.”

At least he doesn’t know that Ben is here. That’s good. I’d never hear the end of it if-

Ben snatches the phone from your hand and holds it up to his ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

The softness was gone, his eyes had hardened again, and the spell was broken. Ben was no longer relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and guarded, jaw set.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ben didn’t like Butcher. Sometimes you wondered why Ben decided to stay.

Probably because the alternative was being frozen like Han Solo next to his son.

When Ben had knocked Homelander out, you hadn’t believed it, and despite Ben’s arguing Butcher wanted to keep Homelander a supe, and just put him on ice. You had no idea why, especially since Butcher had been gunning for him forever, but had the sneakiest suspicion that it was because of Ryan.

But you didn't blame Butcher for that, watching your father get killed in front of you seemed traumatic, not to mention Ryan was still reeling from watching his mother die.

You turn back to your microwave to pull out your bowl of oatmeal with a groan.

Now Butcher’s going to mock me endlessly about going home with Soldier Boy. We didn’t do anything! Well…

Your mind flits back to the searing kiss you shared and to five seconds ago when whatever the hell just happened.

“You want me to meet you in fucking Jersey?” Ben laughs.

You choose not to eavesdrop on the conversation, instead you busy yourself with sprinkling brown sugar onto your breakfast and plucking a few more raspberries from the vines.

“Fine.” Ben almost growls before holding out the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Of course he does. Maybe I can pretend to lose the signal with a piece of paper or a candy wrapper.

“Hello-“

“You crazy wanker.” Butcher chuckles into the phone. “Guess your night was a little more exciting than mine eh? Oi Hughie, you owe me a tener!” He shouts to Hughie who you can guess is sitting nearby.

“What? He’s with y/n! No way!” You hear Hughie shout back, muffled but there.

Damn it he’s gonna tell Annie. She's going to start sending me pictures of babies photoshopped in supe suits.

“You guys were betting that he was here?!” You shout making eye contact with Ben who only smirks before he busies himself with getting a bowl for his cereal.

“He left about two minutes after you did. Said some bullshit about a smoke break.” Butcher is smiling and you know it. “How was he? Was he as good as all the girls say?" Butcher coos on the other side of the line.

“Nothing happened-“

“Sure it didn’t Cherie!” You hear Frenchie crow. “Hopefully you got to relieve some of that tension no?”

“I hate all of you.” You grumble, and before Butcher can say anything else you hang up the phone and glare at Ben. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“You just had to follow me home!”

“You shouldn’t have been walking out there alone.”

“I do it all the time!”

“Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you walk around alone in the middle of the night.”

"Like hell. I don't need a babysitter!"

"I think you do-"

"No I don't. In fact why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" You shout, snatching your bowl of oatmeal before moving to the wobbly kitchen table that you smooshed up against a window that looks out onto your fire escape.

"Because I tend to like morning sex. It's a great way to start the day. Thought you'd be interested." Ben winks as he sits across from you, barely fitting in the wooden chair.

Your phone buzzes where it sits on the table beside your bowl. When you flip it over, you see the text from Annie.

Annie: YOU SLEPT WITH SOLDIER BOY?!!!!

You: I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

Annie: That's a yes. TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!

You sigh and shovel a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, eyes drifting up to the top of your phone screen focusing on the time.

"SHIT! I'm late for work!" You shout before shoving as much oatmeal as you can into your mouth.

"Work?" Ben looks up from his bowl of cereal confused as you begin to run around the room.

The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal falls into the sink with a resounding crash, Bean's cat food lands haphazardly in his bright green food dish, and you practically run to your tote bag that hangs on a peg by your front door.

"I told you. I work at a plant shop." You glance back at your barren coffee maker mournfully. The thought of trying to get through the day without coffee seemed impossible, not to mention you didn’t have time to grab one on the way to work from your favorite shop just around the corner.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Some of us have to work for a living." You run your fingers through your hair quickly pulling it back in a loose ponytail.

"You should leave your hair down." Ben says from the table watching you.

"What?"

"It's prettier when it's down."

"I don't have time for your misogynistic comments. Come on let's go."

"What?"

"I'm not going to leave you here in my apartment alone. You don't have a key."

"You could give me yours-"

"HA. No that's not going to happen. Come on." You tug on his muscular arm, trying to get him up out of the chair, but he barely moves.

“You know you could call out of work and we could spend the day in bed.” He smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “I mean you look good baby, but I think you'd look even better naked. Plus, Butcher and the rest of those fuckers already think we slept together so we might as well-“

“Not a chance Gramps. Either get up out of the chair and leave through the door or leave through the window. It’s your choice and I have no qualms with throwing you down to the street. But please don't make me do that because I can't afford a new window."

Ben rolls his eyes, but finally gets up to follow you. He actually tries to open the door for you, but you place your hand on his chest.

“Nah uh uh. Bowl in the sink. I’m not going to clean up after you.”

Ben sighs and mumbles something under his breath that’s lost in Mike’s inhuman screech of “Love on Top.”

Yeah. What a great fucking way to start the day.

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[kathlare]

bed chem

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the heart of New York City, a shared moment of creativity blossoms between Amelie and Lando. Amid playful banter and the warmth of their connection, vulnerability emerges, allowing them to bridge unspoken emotions. As music weaves their dynamic together, their bond deepens, blending lighthearted teasing with heartfelt sincerity.

Wordcount: 1.7 k

Warnings: just fluff

May 10th, 2024 - New York City, NY

Amelie’s apartment in New York was a reflection of her: eclectic, warm, and effortlessly stylish. The faint sound of cars honking from the streets below filtered in through slightly cracked windows, mixing with the soft hum of music from the speakers. Benny, her docile gray ragdoll cat, was sprawled out on Lando’s lap, purring contentedly while Björn darted around, chasing a piece of crumpled paper he’d stolen from the counter.

—This is it. I’m never leaving,— Lando announced dramatically, running a hand through Benny’s silky fur. He leaned back on the couch, his legs stretched out, looking entirely too comfortable in his sweatpants and hoodie. —I’ll just move in and live here with you and Benny. Björn can have the couch.—

—Björn wouldn’t let you, even if you begged,— Amelie teased, leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in her hands. —He barely tolerates me most days.—

As if on cue, Björn darted up to Amelie, swiped at her ankle playfully, and bolted off again. She rolled her eyes but smiled, taking a sip of her tea.

Lando watched her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. —Speaking of begging…—

Amelie groaned, already sensing where this was going. —No. Absolutely not.—

—Oh, come on!— Lando set Benny down gently and stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides. He stopped in front of her, hands pressed together like he was praying. —Just one song. Please, Ames. I’ve been patient. I didn’t say anything when you wouldn’t show me snippets during the gala. I deserve this.—

—You deserve nothing, Norris,— Amelie said, her tone playful but firm. She turned back toward the kitchen, but he followed her like a shadow, practically clinging to her side.

—Not even a little sneak peek?— he pressed, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze.

Amelie sighed, setting her mug down. —You’re impossible.—

—But you like it,— he said with a cheeky grin.

—Unfortunately, yes,— she muttered, pretending to think it over. Finally, she threw her hands up. —Fine. One song. But no commentary until it’s over. And if you don’t like it, you’re not allowed to say anything.—

—Deal.— Lando’s grin widened, boyish and triumphant.

She grabbed her keys from the counter, motioning for him to follow. —Come on. Studio’s downstairs.—

The small recording studio was tucked into the building’s lower level, a cozy space filled with instruments, stacks of notebooks, and the faint scent of coffee and lavender. Lando looked around, curiosity lighting up his face as he ran a hand over the keys of a piano.

Amelie booted up her laptop, scrolling through files until she found the one she was looking for. —Okay, sit there,— she instructed, pointing to the small couch in the corner. —And no interrupting.—

—You’ve got my full attention, Ames,— Lando said, holding up his hands innocently before plopping down.

The room filled with the soft opening chords of Bed Chem. Amelie glanced at Lando as the first lines played, his expression instantly shifting. His posture straightened, his eyes fixed on her, and his lips parted slightly as the lyrics began to sink in.

"I was in a sheer dress the day that we met We were both in a rush, we talked for a sec You're friendin' me up so we could connect And what are the odds? You sent me a text…"

His brows lifted, a mix of surprise and amusement washing over his face.

Amelie didn’t look at him directly, choosing instead to focus on organizing some papers on the desk. She knew this song would catch him off guard—it was personal, maybe the most personal thing she’d written.

As the song reached the chorus, she chanced a glance at him.

"Who's the cute boy with the white jacket And the thick accent? Like… Maybe it's all in my head But I bet we'd have really good bed chem…"

Lando’s jaw dropped slightly. —Wait… what?— he muttered, breaking the no-interruption rule.

Amelie paused the track, spinning her chair to face him. —What? You don’t like it?—

—Are you joking? I... This is... You wrote this about me?— he stammered, running a hand through his hair as a slow grin spread across his face.

—Maybe,— Amelie said coyly, her cheeks warming under his intense gaze.

Lando stood, crossing the room in two long strides. He stopped just short of her, his hands finding the arms of her chair as he leaned down. —“Bed chem”? That’s a bold lyric, Ames.—

—Bold, but accurate,— she shot back, her voice steady despite the way her heart was racing.

Lando stared at her for a moment before letting out a low laugh. —You’re something else, you know that?—

—Takes one to know one, Norris.—

He tilted his head, his blue eyes locking onto hers. —You’re obsessed with me. Admit it.—

—You’re the one who begged to hear my songs,— Amelie countered, her voice dropping slightly, teasing.

Lando’s gaze flicked to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. —You’re right. I did. And now… I think I’m even more obsessed with you than before.—

Before she could respond, he closed the gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was intense, consuming, his hands sliding from the chair’s arms to cup her face as he deepened it.

Amelie responded in kind, her hands finding their way to his hoodie, pulling him closer. The kiss was electric, charged with every unspoken word and emotion they hadn’t yet voiced. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

—So, you liked the song then?— Amelie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

—Ames,— Lando murmured, his voice rough, —I fucking loved it.—

Amelie smirked, still catching her breath, her fingers playing with the hem of Lando’s hoodie. —That’s a relief. Would’ve been awkward if you didn’t.—

—Oh, it’s awkward alright,— Lando teased, his voice low, his accent. His hands slid from her face to rest on her waist, his thumbs brushing lightly against the soft fabric of her shirt. —You just casually dropped a song about us and acted like it was nothing.—

—It’s not nothing,— Amelie replied, her tone matching his, teasing and bold. Her hands slipped under his hoodie, her palms skimming his stomach, which tensed under her touch. —I just thought you deserved a little surprise. That’s all.—

—A little surprise?— he echoed, laughing under his breath. His lips brushed against hers, feather-light, as he whispered, —You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?—

Her smile widened as she leaned in, kissing him again, slower this time, savoring the way his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer. His touch was possessive, but not demanding; it was like he was savoring the moment as much as she was.

Lando broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her jaw to her neck, leaving a path of soft kisses that made her shiver. —You drive me insane, Ames,— he murmured against her skin, his voice muffled but no less intense.

Amelie tilted her head back slightly, giving him more access, her fingers curling into the waistband of his sweatpants. —You say that like it’s a bad thing,— she teased, though her voice came out breathier than she intended.

Lando chuckled, the sound vibrating against her neck. —Not bad. Just dangerous. Very, very dangerous.—

—And here I thought you liked living on the edge,— Amelie quipped, though her playful tone faltered as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear.

Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes darkening as they met hers. —I do. Especially when it’s with you.—

Amelie’s heart raced as he pulled her to her feet, his hands steady on her waist. Their faces were inches apart, and the intensity in his gaze sent a thrill through her. Without breaking eye contact, he guided her backward until she was pressed against the edge of the desk.

—You’re trouble,— he said, his voice husky, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his hands slid under her shirt, his touch warm against her skin.

—Takes one to know one,— she whispered, pulling him closer by the drawstrings of his hoodie.

Lando captured her lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed her back, her sides, exploring in a way that left her breathless. Amelie’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, earning a low groan from him that sent heat coursing through her.

The world outside the studio faded away, leaving only the two of them, completely lost in each other. Lando’s kisses grew more intense, his hands bolder as he lifted her onto the desk effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together in perfect sync.

—Ames,— he murmured against her lips, his voice ragged, filled with longing.

—What?— she asked, her own voice unsteady as she looked into his eyes, her cheeks flushed.

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. —I bet we’d have really good bed chem.—

Amelie laughed softly, pulling him back into another kiss. —Only one way to find out, Norris.—

[ficsbb]

Hello lovely!! Could you write something about John Wick with a really girly/hyperfeminine reader? I think he would love someone who’s just a total softy and a ray of sunshine. The type to always have flowers around, read fluffy romance books, and has a 10 step skincare routine. I think john would totally spoil her too 🤭🤭 maybe there’s a little bit of an age gap and she loves to tease him about being an old man 😅 idk I just want this man to have a sweet little starburst of a person to treat him right ❤️❤️ illysm 🥰😘

Thank you for the prompt!!! I hope it's to your liking, and I'm sorry it took so long 🫣🌺

》 Pairing: John Wick x Fem!Reader

John is skilled in many things, most being steering clear of big crowds and handling insanely dangerous weapons, but trying to handle two mugs of hot coffee while shooing the pup away is becoming... a task. He climbs the stairs and makes it to your shared room. The door is open slightly, and he catches you sitting in front of your vanity. Small vials, dried florals, makeup palettes littered all over. He doesn't know what half of it is, but he knows it smells like vanilla and lavender. It smells like you. Your eyes catch his, and he smiles as you bubble over with giggles, "Hey, you. Let me help." John nods and leans down to kiss the tip of your nose. "Watch me put on my makeup?" He smiles and says, "Of course."

He watches as you mingle with his acquaintances, your laugh infectious and distinctive. He notices how the younger men look you over and a small spark of jealousy gnaws at him, but he knows it's ridiculous. "Are you alright?" John is startled by your voice and nods quickly, "I'm alright, yeah." You know he isn't, so you grab his hand and lead him outside for some fresh air. "What's wrong?" You ask and watch him look at his hands, avoiding your eyes. You don't push. Rather, let the sound of the wind and low voices of people passing by fill the air until he speaks up. "Are you sure you're okay with me?" He asks, and the question confuses you, "I'm- I- look at these grays." John is taken back when you laugh out loud, uncontrollably. "John," you start, bringing your hands to his face, "your grays don't bother me one bit. I love you, silly." You reach up to peck his nose. He shakes his head and pulls you in for a languid kiss. "Now let's get back so I can show you off." You watch his back straighten, and he follows you inside.

You wake up the next morning to the smell of breakfast. It makes your stomach grumble embarrassingly loud. You find yourself out of bed, rinsed, and ready to head downstairs. "Good morning, pretty girl." John's voice is raspy and still full of sleep. He sets your food in front of you and watches as you take the first bite. "I have something for you." He reaches into his jacket pocket, draped over a kitchen chair, and places a small rectangular box on the counter. Your eyes light up, excited. "What's the special occasion?" He cocks his head to the side, "Since when do I need an occasion to spoil you with gifts?" You don't argue with that and open the box. A beautiful gold anklet with charms is settled into the velvet interior. "John, oh my goodness.." He smiles wide, delighted to see that you like it so much. "Let me." He takes it and kneels down in front of you, propping your foot on his knee to clasp the anklet on. "It fits perfectly, thank you!" You feel flushed when he kisses your foot. "So beautiful." He rises and kisses your lips, leaving you in a daze. "John, you really spoil me." "Not enough." He says and kisses you again.

A full day of shopping usually consists of John watching you pick out pretty things and ask him if he likes it for the bathroom, bedroom, on your body etc. It makes his heart swell. Bags full of fresh new linen and candles, both of your favorite snacks and foods are littered in the trunk of the car by early evening. After settling down, John coming down to the living room, he sees you sitting on the couch. Your legs are tucked up under you with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a mug of something warm in your hands; the steam obviously tickling your nose as you bring it up to your face to take a sip. "May I join you?" You nod and make room. The volume of the television is set low and it starts to lull John to sleep, but before his eyes completely close, he looks over at you. Your eyes set on the rom-com and your hand intertwined with his. "You okay?" You ask him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. John sighs and closes his eyes, "Yes. Perfectly okay here with you."

[kalmiaphlox]

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 3

Guide Me As You Do

Twisting his head up to rest his chin on her chest, Astarion smiles big and wide. Hircine is immediately suspicious, red eyes narrowed to slits, awaiting whatever he's about to say. “My love, can I play with my—yourself?” “Clarify.”

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 6.5k

Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Smut, Body Worship, Guided Masturbation, Massages, Little Edging, and stretching because its good for the body.

A/N: Don't walk on people's back. it really isn't good for the spine.

A big thank you to @amoremagnificentbastard for your kind words on this chapter 🥰

Tag list: @zozoparsnips

Maybe being alive is the worst thing someone can be. 

If Astarion never uses the toilet again, it will still be too soon. Ugh, he feels so dirty—tainted. 

Still stuck in Hircine’s body, still subject to her body's needs, he laments his state. 

He furiously scrubs his slim body down in the bath, leaving red marks where he might have been a touch too rough and maybe taking too long to thoroughly inspect the wonderful tits now attached to his chest. Any slight movement has them swaying and the way they squeeze and conform around every touch or surface has his core quivering for something. It's so strange, the need to be filled instead of to fill. He wants so badly to slide his fingers into this heat, to know the feeling of being inside himself like that, but Hircine might not like him doing that to her body. 

So, fondling his breasts will have to do for now. It's not easy turning Hircine into a whimpering mess that begs for his cock even on their best, most lustful days when she's so tired, so overworked, and then she said she isn't attracted to her own body which certainly puts a damper on getting hot and heavy. Sex might be off the table, and while it's unfortunate to not experience such a once in a lifetime opportunity, they will be just fine without. 

He'll take this chance instead to learn what feels good in Hircine’s body so he can apply that when—not if—they return back to themselves.

Newly refreshed, Astarion towels off, but a shocking sight catches his eye.

My—no, Hircine’s reflection!

How did he not even think of the opportunity mirrors provide now?!

Trotting up to the mirror, Astarion gapes in awe at having something shown back at him, even if it isn’t exactly what he wants to see. Hircine is so lucky that he loves this beautiful face, so staring at it in adoration for much too long is no skin off his back…

Oh, he can make those jokes.

His pretty drow wife stares back at him now. Her soft, light gray skin with those rosy undertones that makes his mouth water from how inviting it is, is lit wonderfully in the bathroom candlelight, and the shiny slate and silver streaked hair long, silky and… grabbable. He loves the way her head will bend back when he takes a fistful of those locks to plant a kiss upon her lips or to sink his fangs into the sensual curve of her neck. 

Lavender eyes with a gold ring around the pupils reflect back into his gaze, catching the light perfectly. He can’t believe he ever thought them strange, and now the glow that shines so bright in the dark is always something he searches for in their quiet moments of peace in bed or on the den couch. Lavender and gold, a much better combination than the maroon that infests nearly every corner of their lives. 

Her straight, high-born nose, and her lovely plump mouth, unfortunately stained with a plum colored lipstick. He understands why she hides her natural lip color under it, but Astarion wants nothing more than to see her ghostly pale lips at all times. 

Maybe one day.

Thinking of ghostly pale, he draws his fingers down the smooth skin of her neck until he meets the ridiculously plush swell of a breast, watching as it indents with his touch. Beautiful, truly. He cups the left breast, Belbol as he’s named such a gift, and then moves on to the right one, Iiyola, his treasure. The areolas and nipples are the same bone white of her lips, with the slightest flush of pink beneath the surface. Fuck, he loves sucking on these.

Looking down, Astarion considers, could I? Just for a moment, see how it feels for him to taste his own tits… Hircine does it for him when asked, so why can't he?

Good gods, is he horny. He shakes the thought from his mind, freeing himself from the lust that threatens to overtake him.

With a fluffy, cotton robe wrapped around his body, he returns to the bedroom, throwing open Hircine’s closet to dig out a pair of panties from a dresser that he slides on quickly. 

I would much rather be naked, but I'm trying to be respectful.

Hircine stands by the fireplace, running a finger along the marble mantle. She turns, quirking an eyebrow at his appearance. “Did you bathe?”

“Yes,” he says, tightlipped, wrapping his arms around himself for some comfort.

“Wha-What happened? I thought you only needed to pee?”

He claps his hands over his ears. “Don't talk about it! It was awful and everything is ruined!”

The whole ordeal was traumatic. Astarion very badly wants to return to his vampire self. Gods, the grass really isn't greener on the other side. 

Taking pity on him, though he can absolutely see the smile she's smothering, Hircine holds out her arms, beckoning him to her. Rushing to melt into her embrace, he's not surprised to find why she likes to be held by him so much, strong arms supporting his thin frame, easily resting her chin on the top of his head so he's swallowed in solace.

What he does not enjoy is the distinct lack of heartbeat from the chest he's resting his ear against, but Hircine, his perfect girl, she never complains about such things.

Hmm, what else is his perfect girl good at? 

Oh, he knows.

Twisting his head up to rest his chin on her chest, Astarion smiles big and wide. Hircine is immediately suspicious, red eyes narrowed to slits, awaiting whatever he's about to say. “My love, can I play with my—yourself?”

“Clarify.”

“You’re so bendy. I want to try it out, you know, like when you lay on the floor in the splits or touch your toes to your head.”

“Ah, I see. Go wild, Husband.”

He purrs into her chest, “I love when you call me ‘husband’ in my voice.”

“You are so weird, Husband,” she says as a kiss is pressed to his forehead, “Off you go. Be flexible or whatever.”

Letting out a girlish shriek that they are both alarmed by, Astarion slides the lounge chair against the wall to give himself some space before settling down cross legged on the rug. Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, now at a loss for what to do next. “So, what do I do?”

Hircine chuckles, a nice deep rumble that he likes. “I’d recommend some stretching so you don’t tear a muscle… Eugh, that’s the worst.” She sits down across from him, straightening her now much longer legs along the floor and Astarion copies the movement. “This is a perfect opportunity because I don’t think you stretch this poor body near enough.

“Now, follow my lead, Husband, but even if you feel like you can go further in your stretches, don’t strain yourself.” One leg is kept straight as the other is bent in, placing her foot against the first leg’s inner thigh. “Try not to arch your back, stay straight and lean forward to touch your toes. You should be able to wrap your hands around your foot.”

Following her verbal instructions and visual cues, Astarion stretches as she does, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. His stomach and chest are pressed against his thigh which isn’t so bad, though he’d prefer them pressed against his actual body.

She demonstrates some more stretches that they perform dutifully before Hircine gives him the go ahead to do as he pleases without wrecking her—his body.

The goal is the splits.

Returning to his feet, Astarion moves off the rug, letting his feet slip slowly out from under him sideways on the polished wood floor. He’s seen Hircine do this a thousand times, she’s always slow and steady with it. Eventually his groin meets the floor, having lowered himself all the way down. Gods, what fun! Hircine is still stretching every single muscle in her body, and Astarion clears his throat to get her attention, smiling deviously. “When we switch back, I am begging you to slide down like this onto my lap, preferably naked.”

She rolls those glinting red eyes, turning over on her side away from him to continue what she was doing in peace, the broad slopes of her back now concealing her completely.

Leaning forward so his stomach presses against the ground, he adjusts his legs out behind him, curling them up and arching his back upwards. 

And just like that, his toes are touching the top of his head.

He giggles quietly to himself, giddy at the strangeness of it. “Maybe we should start stretching together. I want to be able to do this.”

“Honestly, I expected you to be in much worse condition. If we stick to a good schedule, I bet you could be bent in half before the year is over.”

“Only if I get to bend you in half afterwards, my love~” He sings in the nice lilting tone of her voice. 

“Hmmm…” Is her only response. 

Playing around a little longer, Astarion twists this way and that, even doing what she calls a back bend with his forearms and elbows laid flat on the ground. The soreness that's plagued his body settles into a dull ache after all these tests of her flexibility.

Hircine is tense all the time. He can easily recall occasions where he’s rubbed a hand along her shoulders and remarked on the tenseness there. The body must feel so sore since Astarion is more loose…

Has he ever given Hircine a massage? Perhaps not, but now is a good opportunity to try so they can learn what the other wants.

“Pet?” He calls.

Hircine stops rolling her head around on her neck to look at him. “Yes?”

“Care for a massage? I do you, you do me?”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Getting to her feet, Hircine points to their bed. “Does that work?”

“Yes, love. You lay down first.” He waits at the edge of the bed while she climbs up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Actually, uhm—”

“What?” She asks.

He wets his plush lips. “Can you take the clothes off? I need to see myself naked, please!” Voice morphing into a beg, the kind she uses when she wants him to come on her face, the deviant.

Hircine sighs, the sound one he is all too familiar with from himself. 

Gods, this whole experience is strange. 

Always one to give in though, Hircine begins undressing, but that's not what he wants. Rushing forward, Astarion slaps her hands away and starts unfastening each button on his own. 

“You just wanted to feel yourself up, didn't you, Husband?” She says, easily letting him do all the work.

“Guilty as charged, my love~” Ah, the sing-songy tone is very fun. His real voice just doesn't hold those notes as smoothly. 

The shirt is quickly shucked off, baring the smooth planes of his—now Hircine's chest to him. 

Oh, he could just run his tongue over every part of that body. The chiseled pectoral muscles, flat abdominals, those tight pink nipples… He drags the tip of his fingers along every bit, the silky soft feel of his real skin a delight for the senses, making sure to circle the nipples the way Hircine likes and—

Nothing, of course. She stares at him in her usual expectant way. 

Astarion pouts. “Are you not turned on because I'm you or because I'm a woman, now?”

“Both.” Not even a speck of hesitation. 

“Eugh,” How did he end up with a misandrist that is only physically attracted to men? “What if I turned into a man?”

Those glimmering red eyes flick around the room before closing with a groan of disgust. “Then you'd look like my brother and that's even worse.”

Ah, right. 

“Fine.” He sinks into her firm chest, enjoying how it stands strong against his weight. “Hold me tight, please.”

In an instant, Hircine’s arms wrap around him, squeezing Astarion until his breath is forcefully pushed from his lungs in a grunt, and then the pressure is lessened with an “Oops, sorry,” muttered into his hair.

Is he really that strong? 

Alright, that’s enough. Astarion pulls away, holding Hircine at arms length. “Still not naked enough.”

If her pretty claret eyes could roll all the way into the back of her head, they absolutely would. 

He drops to his knees, just the same as Hircine has many nights before this, always ready to please. They can roleplay for a bit, not that it will amount to anything when Hircine won’t get into the mood. More buttons are undone, pants pulled down, and all that’s left is the underwear. Nothing special, of course, because he wasn’t expecting to be eye level with his cock anytime soon—or ever.

A glance up at Hircine, who looks a mix of bored and intrigued, if such a thing is possible. Well, it’s Hircine, so yes, it is. “Are you about to be weird?” She asks.

“Just let me do this, Hircine. Don’t say anything.” It’s a desperate plea.

“Alright. Can I lay down so you can do… whatever it is you’re about to do?”

“Yes.” He springs to his feet, catching her off guard when he shoves against sturdy chest, sending her back onto their cozy bed. The pants are ripped off completely, tossed somewhere far away before Astarion crawls up, hands on her thighs. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about, hmm?” Hircine covers her handsome face with her hands in response. 

Tsk, shy thing. 

Straddling her pale thighs, Astarion bites his lip, taking a deep breath to steady himself as his hummingbird heart hammers away at an alarming pace. The sound has always been so delightful for him, but the feel is something else entirely, not quite painful but also a little unnatural—to him at least, this is normal for his lovely Hircine if all their nights together is anything to go by.

Index fingers feather around the edge of his underwear, teasing, ready to enter at any moment. 

It’s time. He has to see it as it’s meant to be seen.

Both fingers hook under the fabric, tugging each side down to slowly and delicately reveal the hidden treasure underneath. 

For the most part, it’s the same as it's always been, just from a slightly different angle. A cock with testicles. Too bad he can’t get it hard, that’s really what he wants to see. No matter, Astarion can still take a gander. Lifting his flaccid penis, he wraps a hand around it, testing the weight within this body’s smaller grasp. The foreskin is pulled back, exposing the glans. 

Is his mouth watering? 

Astarion ignores that and the heat pooling between his legs currently. It will do him no good to want his body so badly when the one inside it won’t respond well to any advances. 

Gods, they can’t turn back to their bodies soon enough. He needs to be plunging this cock into Hircine's tight cunt now.

He looks up, an arm is thrown over her eyes while he handles his own cock with care. Different bodies be damned, this cock is all his. 

“How does it feel?” He asks in a raspy whisper, his mouth so dry from hanging open as he fights with the urge to do something he probably shouldn’t.

Hircine shrugs, indifferent. He swallows down a sigh. He loves his wife as she is.

Dropping his cock in defeat, Astarion slips the underwear the rest of the way off and—

Maybe just a little smell… He brings them to his face and inhales. The underwear also gets scented with his cologne, not that Hircine cares when she isn't all that turned on by smells the way Astarion is. Rosemary, bergamot, brandy and a touch of undeath. Not surprising.

He sighs again and tosses them into the void with the pants.

Massage time. 

Propping herself up on elbows, Hircine gives him the saddest, wettest eyes he's ever seen. Is that what he looks like when he's pleading? No wonder his poor wife bends over backwards for him—literally.

“I'm sorry, Husband. I am trying, it's just—”

Astarion halts her words with his finger pressed to her lips. “Hush, pet. There is no need to apologize for not liking something. If you aren't into it, then you aren't into it. I would never begrudge you that. Now, roll over so I can sink my hands into those muscles.” 

Always a good listener, Hircine lays face down on the bed with arms crossed under her head for some support. Straddling her hips, which are surprisingly wide comparatively to the body he’s in now—thank the gods Hircine is so flexible—Astarion runs his hands over the rippling muscles in her back. Oh, these are nice. 

The hellish, scar-tissue ‘poem’ etched into his skin is promptly ignored. He's focusing on the good today, not the bad. 

He kneads his small hands into her upper shoulders, trying to press firmly into them until she shows any discomfort, but nothing comes. “How is it?” He asks.

“A little like nothing, honestly… Am I really so weak?”  

Well, that’s disappointing. “I’ve never thought you strong, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. What should I do then? I want you to feel good.”

Lifting her head, Hircine considers what to do. “How about you walk on my back? I bet the weight would feel nice.”

“Gods, my love and her big brain… or is it my brain?” She ‘tuts’ at him as Astarion gets to his feet, balancing carefully atop her back. Even though he’s now used to her more… top-heaviness, what with the mass of hair and her ample bust, balance isn’t something he’s mastered yet, so he steadies himself on a poster of their bed frame. He plants his feet along her shoulder blades. “Is it actually alright to do this to your back?”

“I don’t know—” She groans in his own lustful voice and Astarion’s knees might give out from the sound. Why doesn’t it sound like that to his actual ears? “Ooh, but it feels so good…” If he hadn’t put on panties, slick was going to be dripping from his legs by the end of this. 

He walks up and down Hircine’s broad back, putting attentive focus onto spots that get satisfied moans and groans out of her. The feeling is so strange, just digging his heels and toes into someone’s back instead of using hands as a massage… Maybe they’ll have to do this more often if the noises are anything to go by. 

It’s really hot. This whole thing is so hot. Is he really so attracted to himself or could this possibly be some leftover remains from Hircine’s body? He doesn’t care, Astarion is loving it.

The thighs are a little too slim to fully walk on, so Astarion works a foot and heel into a thigh one at a time, slowly moving up to the real prize.

That beautiful ass. 

It’s perfect. Gods, he hasn’t—Has he even seen it outside of the sides when he twists around best he can? 

Hircine is more into his back from how her hands roam up and down the curves of muscle, trailing along his shoulder blades and spine to the dimples in the small of his back. 

Astarion much prefers the tits and arse, of Hircine and of himself, apparently. 

Settling down to his knees, Astarion roughly pinches one arsecheek and Hircine jolts, peeking over her shoulder with a sharp glare. A wide smile strains his face, probably because Hircine rarely smiles, and he takes handfuls of each of her cheeks, rolling, kneading and squeezing them around. 

He leans down and bites one right in the center—hard enough to leave teeth marks.

Hircine yelps, swatting at Astarion. “Alright, enough, you wild animal.”

“Hircine, my darling love, my sweet pet, my perfect girl,” he begs in her adorable whiney voice, “I completely understand that you aren’t able to… get it up, but can I find some release here? I-I need something, I feel like I’m melting. It’s too much.” Astarion is squeezing his thighs together, anything to help the burning within.

It does not help.

Those deep pools of ruby look over his figure, probably finding it all much too desperate. Hircine chews at a lip, the motion so similar to how she does it in her own body. “I don’t mind, but could we… do it together? I could show you what feels the best to me.”

Astarion dives into her bare chest, wrapping his arms around her neck. “Oh my gods, I love you so much. You're so perfect for me, pet. I can put my fingers in my cunt?”

“Mine or yours?”

“Yes. Both. All of it. Anything, please.”

“You're so hungry, Husband.”

“I always am for you.”

She pulls away, pinching his nose. “And you. Can I put something on, please?”

Daring a peek back down, he sighs at his cock. Wretched thing might not be getting any action tonight. “Yes. Underwear only though. I need that skin-on-skin contact.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hircine mocks in a deep, affected accent as she slides off the bed, searching for wherever he threw the underwear. 

Is that what it sounds like when he’s being a brat? No wonder she finds him so silly all the time. 

“Wait, how should it lay?” Hircine asks. His cockhead sticks straight up out of the underwear, calling to Astarion, pleading to be free once again. 

Ignoring the siren call of his own penis, Astarion laughs, beckoning Hircine over. He sticks his hand into the underwear, holding back the snort of laughter when Hircine jumps while he adjusts his cock until it rests where it should, though it’s weird from this angle. “It should just… feel right? Does it?”

“I think so? I’ll get used to it.” 

“Good. I am very excited, though I’d much rather be back in my body, shoving my fingers and tongue into your cunt instead.”

“And I would much rather have your cock down my throat, but here we are.”

Hircine dirty talking him in his own voice? Could he come from listening to her describe everything in explicit detail?

Oh absolutely, yes. That's undeniable, but he wants something inside of him. So desperately, horrifically much. His cunt is throbbing with need and he knows the panties are soaked through completely. 

“Alright, pet, tell me what to do.” He takes her face in his hands, brushing a thumb across a sharp cheekbone. This is such an amazing experience. Each and every moment will be committed to memory with perfect clarity, if only they had one of those memory shards on hand so they could rewatch this as much as they please.

“I guess it’s time for you to get naked.”

His heart soars, the rhythmic pounding vibrating through his chest. “Will you help me?”

Hircine smiles, soft and sweet and he just adores the way those eyes crinkles around the edges. “Of course, Husband.” She unties the already loosened robe completely, flicking it over and down his shoulder.

With a smug grin, Astarion squeezes his arms around his tits and shakes his shoulders so they jiggle with the movement. He likes it when Hircine does it. 

An unimpressed, raised brow is all he gets for that action. “It's just a mirror.” She mutters.

“A mirror? What do you mean?”

“I'm pretending I'm looking into a mirror. This whole thing,” she waves between the two of them, “is hurting my head. I don't know if it's helping.”

“This hurts your head, but not the—” Astarion winces when, as if summoned, Herma-Mora's discordant chittering pierces a blade through his skull.

A̴̢̭̱̘̖͙̮̭͉̙͓͇̯͙̜͒̆̂͑ǫ̷̼̜͉̦͙̊̎̓͋͗̃͛̕ͅͅb̶̢̭͈̹͖̖͑̈́͂̀͐Ý̵̡͎̪̞͓̭͈́̆̓̏̐̈́̐ͅQ̷̡͉̭̙̪̼̲̪̩̣̣̻͇͕̼͂̍̀

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groans. “I want it to stop.”

“I rarely ever hear him when I'm… enjoying myself—outside of when I seek him out intentionally. Stop thinking about him.”

“Are you thinking of another man when I'm inside you?!” I'm right here! How could she think of that vile monster when I, a beautiful, gorgeous, heart-breaking piece of man, am by her side?!

“He's not a man, and no, that's not what I meant. Let's move—”

“Hircine, my pet, I'm all for trying out new things, but bringing your mind-invader into the bedroom is not what I—”

Seemingly had enough, Hircine finds his nipples easily and pulls. Not hard, but it's enough for Astarion's brain to pleasantly shatter, the sting of arousal striking white-hot through every fiber of his being. His limbs turn to jelly, his core is screaming for something to fill him. The lewd moan that slips from his mouth couldn't possibly be contained even if he tried when his eyes slam shut, rocking forward in the hopes that Hircine might do more.

Instead, the traitorous (wo)man leans forward with a frown, releasing her tight hold on those peaks of delight much too early. “How about we move on to what's got you so bothered instead? I can smell the change… it's strange…”

“That's how I, uh, always know you're in the mood.” He's panting. His heart’s pounding. This body is absolutely quivering for more. 

How does Hircine keep it together when she responds so wholly with her body?

“Seems like cheating when you can just smell the difference.”

He wipes some drool from the side of his mouth. “That's called a natural advantage, pet. Not my problem that your body just… weeps for me.”

“Do you want to touch yourself or not?” 

He all but launches himself into Hircine’s chest, clutching at the curls that frame her beautifully pointed ears. “Please, I need it!” If he can't have his own cock, then the fingers will have to do. 

“Alright,” she climbs onto the bed, spreading her legs and patting the spot between, “sit here, back to me.” The robe is thrown to the floor, and panties, which are soaked as expected and he beats down the urge to taste them as he always does, are thrown away before Astarion dives in, situating himself right where she asked. Her cool hands immediately slip between his thighs and pry them open with ease, knees raised and feet planted on their soft bedding. The cool air in the room meets the wetness of his cunt for a very refreshing feeling. That’s nice. 

He’s stunned and insanely turned on by the forwardness Hircine is presenting when she is always the one waiting for his command. Being in his body must make her bold. 

“To start, your hands, please, Husband.” Both her hands are held up in waiting, her lips close to his ear, speaking in heady, hushed tones that have him fighting the urge to just shove her fingers into his dripping cunt so he can fuck himself silly on them.

Astarion enthusiastically places his hands in Hircine’s, and she guides them to his heaving chest to cup each breast in a hand. “To get started, sometimes I like to squeeze and roll them around,” and they do just that in tandem, gently squeezing the soft, weighty flesh of his tits, admiring how they spill over in his smaller hands. “Harder,” she whispers, digging their fingers in, right on the cusp of too hard. His head falls back, a breathy moan and wiggling hips, his response to the alluring sensation. 

This is decadent! He can’t believe Hircine is always so quiet in bed when it feels like this. His cunt continues to clench around nothing, and Astarion can barely wait for more.

“And when that isn’t enough anymore,” she says, shifting her grip to lay his fingertips onto his nipples, “then I know this is what I need.” They brush featherlight over the tightened buds, very gently circling around the areolas and good gods, Astarion wishes he could just come from this and literally nothing else. His tits are alight with the most delightful tingle that trails like fire through his stomach and loins, and this is only his touch, not Hircine’s.

“Can you—Can you do it?” He gasps out, arching his back to rest his head on her strong shoulder and jut his chest out. If he doesn’t get some more stimulation, he might explode. 

“Oh, my poor, needy Husband… You want me to touch you?” She coos.

“Fuck—Please, I need it, Hircine!” He demands, rocking back against her, looking down to relish in the way his tits bounce with the action. Finding it within herself to be gracious, Hircine cups his breasts now, thumb and forefingers pinching over his pale nipples to twist them around. His thighs slap together when he moans loud and long and desperate, struggling to comprehend how amazing it feels with her hands on him now. She could probably rip his nipples right off and it would still be one of the best experiences to date. 

She hums, a thoughtful noise that rumbles through her throat, and he can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks next. “I don’t think we play with our ears enough…” A wet tongue snakes along the shell of his ear, shockingly tender and sensitive, and Astarion’s breath hitches. Between the ear licking and the nipple touching, it’s all so much, so perfect, so good. 

And then Hircine pushes his breasts up towards their faces, releasing him so they bounce back into place. “Do it to yourself some more.” She commands, not all that stern in case he were to reject such a thing. As if. Following instructions like the good husband he is, Astarion returns his hands to where they belong, missing Hircine’s touch, but loving his own all the same. 

While he appreciates how much Hircine is getting into this, Astarion is stunned that she is noticeably not hard against his back. How?! 

Oh, well. His pleasure is the most important right now. 

Pinching, pulling, rolling, with this body reacting by clenching, yearning, throbbing… A frantic energy is building up within him, but with his touch on his breasts only, he knows there will be no reaching the brink of satisfaction.

As usual, Hircine’s timing is good, or maybe she knows her body well enough to understand that this kind of play would not be enough. Her fingers tickle down his flat stomach and he watches at it involuntarily clenches at the funny feeling. She then stops right at the apex of his sex, drumming against the pubic bone.

“Hmm, do you want to tease or shall I?” She asks and Astarion’s heart flutters. 

“You.” His desperate response is instantaneous. Why would she ever ask when she knows it’s so much better that she do it?

One hands scoops up a breast, lightly massaging it in a firm grip, but much to his dismay, the nipple is ignored entirely while her other hand pries open his thighs once again, palm and fingers smoothing along the supple flesh of his inner thigh, occasionally circling dangerously close to his lower lips before skirting away to repeat the motion. On his own, he could see how this wouldn’t be all that exciting, but with Hircine’s strong hands initiating, it has him on the verge of begging. 

On another lazy pass by his folds, Hircine leaves her hand to rest there, but finally offers some relief from the toying by brushing the thumb on her other hand over a peaked bud, and Astarion realizes he’s been holding his breath for much, much too long, his chest constricting with need until he sucks one in with a gasp as his hips jerk up, eager for Hircine to continue.

Her quiet voice, insistent and urging, reaches him. “Touch yourself, Husband.”

Biting back a moan, Astarion does as he's told, no hesitation, digits sliding down his stomach just as she did before, aiming for that swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves that he knows gets Hircine off so well. The second his fingers make contact, crackling sparks of pleasure jolt through his body, unleashing a debauched gasp that he didn't even know Hircine’s body was capable of. 

He’ll take more of that. His fingers slip down further, swirling just outside the hungry mouth of his cunt to coat himself in slick, and that movement is carried back up to the clit, gently rubbing around it for the most glorious sensation. Hircine, not one to sit idly by, turns her attention to his tits, kneading them with fervent affection and pulling on the impossibly, hardened peaks. He’s so breathless as his hips buck, searching for some more friction. 

“Oh, fuck, Hircine, it’s so, so good!” He mewls as she tenderly pinches his nipples. “Can-Can I put my fingers inside? Please, I want it so bad!”

He can hear how she licks her lips, letting out a quiet huff of laughter. “Are you going to fuck yourself on your fingers?”

“Yes!”

“Then do it.” She whispers. 

Instantly, he sinks his middle finger inside that glorious wet heat, then another follows immediately after because Astarion is craving it so deeply. His cunt grips his fingers as they slide in and out at a slow, cautious pace, reveling in how slick and warm and hot it is. While Astarion is lost in himself, Hircine flicks her fingers across his clit and roughly twists one of his nipples with the other hand, and he is lost to the shock of overwhelming euphoria that burns its way through his body. Her strokes on his clit continue, gentle and sensuous, urging him down a path to a mind-blowing orgasm, the likes he might not have experienced before. 

A third finger is added, a comfortable stretch inside him as he seeks out that spot Hircine loves so much and gods, does he want it. The coil is tightening within his belly, and Astarion presses back into Hircine, whining and moaning and gasping, and then—

Hircine stops, stilling all her movements completely.

Astarion is a yearning, flustered mess as he removes his fingers, panting hard when no release comes to ease the overwhelming burn. “Wh-Why did you stop?!” 

“It’s not fun if you come so quickly… I like the buildup, personally.” Her cold lips meet his cheek for a loud, smacking kiss that leaves him feeling dissatisfied. 

“Tch, I want to come, not play games.” Guess he’ll have to take his pleasure into his own hands if she’s going to be evil.

Wrapping an arm over his tits and covering his clit with her hand, Hircine smiles deviously against him. “No, we’re going slow.”

He scowls, “Is this because I fingered you under the desk while that gnome was asking for an advance payment last week?”

“Hmm, well now that you remind me… Yes. It is.” Hircine nibbles at his ear, fangs scraping against the sensitive skin there so gooseflesh raises across Astarion’s body, and he shivers. Running her fingers down through his puffy folds, she dips into his cunt once, then twice, before stroking the entrance and back up to his clit, teasing gently. “Also, my dear husband, I think it’s only fair that you know what it's like to be played with.”

It’s outright vengeance. Fine, they can play. He opens his slim legs as wide as he can, offering himself up completely for whatever Hircine has planned. Her fingers have warmed up to his body temperature now as she swirls them around, making a mess of his slick all along his cunt lips and thighs, occasionally giving some much needed attention to Astarion’s clit so he whines and squirms at the pleasure that strikes through his nerves.

Touch like this could feel just as good in his own body, but maybe it's the thrill, the strangeness, of being different that has him singing so much for each stroke, swipe and pinch. Hircine is rarely ever interested in self-pleasure unless he asks for a show, so the fact that she’s able to toy with him so well like this, knowing exactly the buttons to push, is a wonderful surprise. 

If it’s some advanced level of torture she’s learned or the height of absolute delight, Astarion is brought so close to the edge of oblivion, only to be brought back down again and again… and again, while Hircine whispers sweet nothings and taunts into his ears.

Whether her vengeance has been sated or she just knows he’s had enough, Hircine nuzzles her nose into his neck, trailing up until she murmurs in that decadent and deep voice. “Had enough, Husband?”

“Please.” A whispering plea slips past his lips, chest heaving and sweat clinging to his body as she works him over so thoroughly. Slickened fingers are brought to his mouth, and Astarion opens, keen to taste that nectar he so eagerly feasts on any other night. Musky, salty and sweet, not quite the same as it is when he’s tasting with his own tongue, but delicious all the same. Seeking out her lips, they meet in a slow, heated kiss to share his arousal. 

Hircine hums when she breaks away, red eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Different… Interesting. I’ll stop playing with you now.”

He melts into her chest, drawing circles over one of his pale nipples with an index finger, “Oh, thank the gods, I’m rea—Ah!” She buries two fingers inside his cunt before he can finish speaking, curling them up just right to hit that spot inside, while the other hand seeks out the rosy bud at the apex of his sex, rubbing it perfectly between her fingers. Astarion’s been kept mercilessly at the edge of bliss, so these intent ministrations by Hircine shoves him right over. 

His eyes screw shut while a choked cry echoes out into their bedroom as he comes, writhing in her arms when shockwaves of his orgasm overtake this body. Stars are seen, breath is trapped in his chest, and his nails dig into his tits while each rippling wave sends him reeling in euphoria. The two stroking fingers inside of his core are constricted as the walls of his cunt pulse in tune with his fluttering heartbeat, ebbing slowly to an occasional twinge as Hircine helps him ride each crest, before it abates fully, and Astarion is left a trembling and limp pile of limbs.

Eventually enveloped in a tight embrace, Hircine holds him close, placing sweet pecks to his temple. “Was that what you wanted?”

He groans and swallows to wet his dry throat, feeling like dropped jelly. “Does… it always feel like that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Fuck, that’s amazing.” Finally some sense is returned to his loose arms and legs, and Astarion curls up against Hircine, feeling purely satisfied. “Thank you, my love.” His eyes are already growing heavy, all the energy drained from his body after that mind-bending orgasm. 

Maybe after a short nap, everything will return to normal.

[daddycassie]

A day by the lake with miss Lucy Gray 🌼

Pairing ~ Lucy Gray Baird x Fem!Reader - 2,021 words

Warnings: Fluff to Smut, a lot of foreplay, back clawing(very briefly), bondage, praise, woah this is kinky, Lucy gray being a sub

It was early evening when your lover dragged you down to her favorite spot by the lake. She was a sweetheart in all her glory, you watch her twirl, her lavender sundress fanning out around her as you spin her playfully. Lucy Gray nearly topples over with delighted laughter, she honestly might have had she not gripped onto your shoulders for balance. When she gazes to you with lovesick, brown eyes you simply have to kiss her.

She smiles happily against your lips before setting out her favorite(only) picnic blanket. “It’s warm enough to go swimming.” You tell her thoughtfully. Lucy Gray nods, “Did you want to?” She asks. You nod back, easily undressing down to your undergarments. You were oblivious to the way she stared.

You didn’t exactly have swimsuits, so bra and underwear would have to do. When you speed off and cannonball into the water Lucy Gray watches your every step. Briefly, she folds up your clothes and proceeds to undress herself too. She walks over and drapes her legs into the water, sparkling eyes searching the deep blue for you.

You grab your lover by the legs from under the dock and she shrieks, loud and high pitched. Your laughter follows and she tries her best to glare at you. “Y/n, what the hell?!” Lucy Gray crosses her arms, bringing another smile to your face. You pull her into the water, to her great displeasure and she holds onto you tightly. “You’re too cute hon.” You say with a kiss to her nose.

Lucy Gray can’t help the smile it brings to her face. “You’re so mean to me, you know?” She says softly. “Yeah well at least I can swim.” Your girlfriend’s face flushes at the tease. “I can swim, I just… prefer to be near you, because I love you so, SO much.” She solidifies the statement with an eager kiss.

You don’t know how much you believe her words, but you kiss back anyway, caressing the exposed small of her back. Lucy Gray is smooth and warm, and you’re afraid you might start getting a little handsy when cold water hits you in the face. The way Lucy Gray giggles mischievously tells you it was her doing. “Got it up my nose you lil shit.” You huff.

“Mhmmm,” she hums, “but you wouldn’t still be kissin’ me if you were mad.” You hated that she just knew everything — or at least acted like she did. You deepen the kiss suddenly and her eyes fly open in shock. She looks at you and you stare back. She’s quick to relent, letting her eyes flutter shut as her arms wrap around your neck.

One of your hands goes to Lucy Gray’s long hair, gently tugging and kneading there. Your other hand squeezes her hip, caressing it with your thumb. You feel the way your songbird’s heart thuds in her chest. The way her breath hitches. The way her hips press against you and you simply can’t resist—

She pulls away, taking a deep breath and you’re brought back to your senses. “Mmh, careful there.” Lucy Gray chuckles nervously. “I’m always careful.” You whisper, and kiss her jaw. Her eyes snap shut again and her legs hook around you. “Sure you are…” she mumbles back. Your hand moves down from her hair, to the small of her back again.

You want to turn her around and kiss a pattern down it till she quivers beneath you. You revel in the way Lucy Gray whines into the evening air. In this lighting she looks like a goddess, to you she is. She looks down at you while you lean in and kiss her vulnerable neck.

Lucy Gray bites her lip. Especially when you start biting. Tears prick at the corners of her cute doe eyes. “Y/n, baby, m-maybe we should get out of the water?” She offers faintly. “Mm. Right, blanket?” Lucy Gray nods in quick agreement to your words.

It’s not very difficult to carry her over to the little picnic blanket, even less so to lay her down. As soon as you’re leaning over her she presses her hips up against you with a quiet whimper. It’s warm, you note, she must be pretty desperate. You pull her hair again so her head leans back and her neck is bared.

As soon as she’s vulnerable again, you continue to make quick work of kissing and biting her neck. Lucy Gray’s continued little noises are quite the reward, and you decide it may be time to be a little cruel. Revenge for the splashing, after all. You drop your hips down on hers, effectively pinning them down against the blanket. She groans loudly in response, her breath is warm and steamy. Your lover’s muscles tense in failed attempts to buck her hips and you can’t help smirking. “What’s wrong Lucy Gray?” You coo to her. “Please… don’t be cruel.” Lucy Gray breathes her words. You love the way her nails dig into your shoulders needily.

She cries out particularly loudly when you start sucking on her neck, leaving marks that will surely be hard to cover up later. You decide to tease her a little. “Those ones won’t be easy to cover up, maybe I should move… lower.” Lucy Gray moans at your words. “Please, yes.” She nods frantically.

You lift your hips off of hers, only to press your knee between her legs after, causing her to tremble. “Baby, baby please.” She sounds pitifully desperate. You peel away Lucy Gray’s wet bra and admire her for a while. Certainly, the beauty in front of you was blessed by Aphrodite.

You place your hand on her chest, and she quickly arches into the touch. “Good girl.” You speak without thinking. The noise she makes in response is absolutely filthy and the way she grinds into your knee… it’s irresistible. You want to hear that voice sobbing brokenly into your ear.

You squeeze, knead and pull her chest and her pretty moans continue. You drink in Lucy Gray’s voice like it’s the last time you’ll ever hear it. “Please, please—“ she’s cut off by a whine when you stand.

“Come back!” Lucy Gray bites her lower lip for a moment, trying to lure you back with a pleading look. You look back with a smirk, “I’ll be back sweetheart, I just need to grab something I promise you’ll like it.” She doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t complain further as you walk off to the shed.

When you come back, Lucy Gray is sitting up, having undressed herself the rest of the way, she pouts. “You took too long.” She spoke with a sharp edge to her voice. That edge would melt like butter soon. “Sorry, I got you something.” You smile, pushing her back down to resume the previous position. You hold up a smooth piece of rope. “Think you’d be okay if I bind your wrists up?”

Lucy Gray’s eyes narrow and she nods, when it came to you she was sure she could trust that you would make sure she enjoyed herself. You ball up a small piece of white cloth. “And this?” You ask, knowing she’ll understand what you’re asking. Again, she nods. Carefully, you adjust the position so that Lucy Gray is laying belly down propped up on her elbows, you hold yourself on top of her still.

You bring your lover’s wrists to your lips and kiss her pulse points, you can feel her fast heart beat. You tie her wrists out in front of her, assuring her comfort as you tighten and knot it. Lucy Gray tests its security with a couple tugs and then a thumbs up. You gesture for her to open her mouth and use the white cloth as a gag, if her short hum says anything, she’s definitely pleased.

Once she’s ready, you continue toying with her chest. Lucy Gray pants heatedly, the longer you tease, the mistier she seems. By the time you become bored of messing with her breasts she’s covered in a sheen of sweat. When she looks back at you, you see the dark lust in her eyes.

Your hands travel down her navel, and she groans into the cloth gag, pressing back flush against you. She was a little overwhelmed, but in the best way possible, she feels dizzy when you spread her legs apart. “That’s it, wider now. You’re doing so good.” Her honey eyes glaze out of focus and the world seems hazy when you praise her.

When you finally touch her sensitivity, Lucy Gray wants many things. She wants to slap you, she wants you to touch her, she wants to yell at you, she wants you to hurry up and fuck her already. She whines into the gag, hoping it would urge you to do something. The brunette feels great relief when you actually do, she presses her face down into the blanket as your fingers caress her clit.

Her hips jolt and her thighs tremble while you touch the bundle of nerves, she tries for louder moans but the gag makes it hard. You snicker behind her as she clenched tightly around nothing. Lucy Gray attempts a huff, but it turns into a whine when you circle her slit.

She squeezes her teary eyes shut and tries to plead with you, but there isn’t much she can do but squirm while you teethe at her neck roughly. She can feel each mark left behind, and it stings in just the right way that makes her eyes roll. You continue teasing her entrance, her muffled whimpers tell you all you need to know about how good it feels. Her hips grind down, rewarding her with a bit more friction, but not enough.

Lucy Gray feels your free hand on her chest, and you flick her there softly. She only trembles harder, her elbows struggling to support her. Finally, finally, you press one finger into her and with how overstimulated she feels it’s enough to make her scream under the gag. She squirms and jerks and cries, and you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Lucy Gray is beyond soaked, and not just because of the dip in the lake. Her walls feel searingly hot, and the tightness makes fingering her harder, but somehow more satisfying. You press in the second finger slower, trying not to hurt her too much. The smaller woman bites down on the cloth, nearly choking on it as she moans. You thrust slowly, trying to get her used to the feeling.

It takes a long time, and Lucy Gray feels like she’s being tortured from the slow in, out, in, out, in, out. It’s driving her mad at this point, so she pulls against her restraints, moaning against the feeling of restriction and bucks her hips repeatedly to set a faster pace. Lucy Gray’s neediness shows, and you decide to give in, a third finger joins your thrusts and your thumb circles her swollen clit.

Lucy Gray’s eyes roll back as she’s finally driven up the wall, she tightly grips the picnic blanket and cries out over and over. You wrap your free arm around your girlfriend’s waist to hold her still and go rougher, faster. The wet sounds of skin on skin and the filth frantically babbled from her lips are pleasure enough for you. “Good girl, cum for me.” You whisper in her ear, curling your fingers.

Lucy Gray tenses, finally coming undone on your fingers. Wetness drips on your hand and she limps against the blanket. You remove your hand, cleaning it off while Lucy Gray tries to catch her breath. You remove the gag and untie her so she can do so easier.

Lucy Gray moves with a slight groan, and lays her head on your lap, “That was…” she begins to speak, but doesn’t finish. “The best?” She nods to you and you play with her hair.

“I don’t think I can move my legs.”

“How tragic, you’re at my mercy.”

“Don’t even think about it Y/n.”

Note: sooo, technically this is my first written out smut, so take it easy on me, I’m workin on it :,) also uh, don’t know what id do exactly, but maybe part 2? Let me know if you guys want it. @lucygraysbabygirl

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯: 𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦

Rating: Pairing: Mountain & Cumulus & Dew Word Count: 743 Mountain and Cumulus make Dew's favorite cake for his summoning day. Mushy May brought to you by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

Mountain doesn’t consider himself much of a baker. He isn’t Cumulus who can whip up scones, and cookies, and marvelous cakes in an afternoon. He isn’t Dew who has an overall knowledge of all things kitchen that seems to be endless. But, he knows how to follow a recipe. And he knows how to make one thing perfectly.

Dew’s summoning day cake. 

If it was up to Dew–no one would make him anything. They’d have dinner together–that Dew cooked, and play games on the ancient N64 system, or watch a campy horror movie. There would be no cake, no gifts, no fuss. 

It’s not because Dew doesn’t like cake and gifts and fuss–it’s because he doesn’t think he deserves them–sees them as superfluous. 

Mountain won’t stand for it. 

Cumulus is with him, of course. Mountain feels better with her around when he’s baking. Like even if she just stood somewhere in the room and didn’t help it would come out better. She’s standing next to him, creaming butter and sugar while Mountain steeps strong earl gray tea to infuse into the batter. 

Cumulus measures out honey and adds it to her mixture of wet ingredients. Eggs are next. The kitchen already smells divine and they haven’t even put it in the oven yet. 

“He’s going to complain,” Mountain says, apprehensive. 

“He always complains. He doesn’t like when people do things for him.”

“I just wonder if maybe we should listen to him for once.” Mountain strains the tea into Cumulus’ mixture and she sighs. Humming softly as the herbal smell hits her. She adds a dash of lavender–her secret ingredient. 

“What and do nothing?” 

Mountain shakes his head. “Less, maybe. I mean I don’t like when people go all out for me–it feels–I don’t like to be seen like that.” 

“But that’s you, Mount,” Cumulus says softly, watching Mountain sift dry ingredients together. “Dew’s different. And we’re already making the cake.” 

“I don’t mean the cake. Of course we have to make the cake. I mean the gifts, the fawning over him. Maybe we could just watch a bad movie and–”

“Are you really going to be able to watch him make us all dinner on his summoning day and not help at all?” 

Mountain shakes his head. “No.” 

“What did you get him?” 

“Besides the cake?”

Cumulus laughs, she nudges Mountain with her hip. “What? Are you keeping it from me too?” 

Mountain blushes a little. “He found this rock when we were on tour, it’s not even anything special but it’s pretty. I…I might have stolen it from him and made it into a necklace.” 

Cumulus laughs, bright and airy. She takes the bowl of dry ingredients from Mountain and starts to add them little by little to the wet. “And you say you don’t want to fawn over him.”

Mountain flushes, he can’t help it. “He deserves it.” 

Cumulus nods in agreement as she mixes the batter. Mountain watches it come together–he dips his finger in, unable to resist the herbal sweetness of it. The lingering flavor of honey and bergamot burst on his tongue. He goes for another taste and Cumulus bats his hand away.  “Save some for, Droplet.” 

“Droplet will get plenty,” Mountain says, leaning over and kissing her on the temple, sneaking his finger into the batter as he does. 

“Enough!” She hip checks him, and curls her arm protectively over the bowl. “Go make the caramel or the frosting or something. You know Swiss can only keep him busy for so long.” 

Mountain smiles warmly at her, turning to dump the softened butter into the stand mixer. “Yes, ma’am.” 

When Dew and Swiss appear–an hour and a half later, the cake is done. Sitting tall and proud on the table in the middle of the kitchenette. Perfectly iced, caramel glaze dripping decadently down the sides. 

Dew’s smile lights up his face, his eyes dart over to Mountain and Cumulus a pink blush rising to his cheeks. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You alway say that–and yet, we always do.” Cumulus crosse the room to pull Dew into a hug, to kiss him gently on the forehead. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Mountain answers Dew’s smile with one of his own. This–he remembers–is why they do this. Just for these small moments when Dew allows himself to be loved and doted on without complaint or embarrassment. For the moment when he sees his favorite cake, waiting, just for him.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 21

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 21.

He put the ship down in a valley of rubble on a speck of a planet. It had been terraformed centuries ago for mining but tapped out early—like a lot of mines past the edge—and been abandoned by the SC. There was a tiny outpost on the other side, so unimportant that it wasn’t even charted as a residence in the Solar Court database.

Rory had been less sure of this little side quest when he landed than he had been when they first came up with the idea, but after seeing the look on Stardust’s face when they stepped off the ship…

How could someone who had lived in the Prime Quadrant of the Solar Court their whole life and probably seen more places than he could imagine, look so awestruck by a wasteland?

He turned and tried to see what they saw.

Lavender slate rubble and dark peaks in the distance, the white glow of the nearest star casting long shadows, and the wink of stars through the gray sky. The wind whistled through canyons and twirled fine particles into purple and black waves off the peaks.

The flare of their optic implant dragged a ring of electric orange light through their irises. Were they adjusting their vision to the lighting or were they recording images?

“No one lives here?” Stardust asked.

Rory laughed. They sounded like they were thinking of claiming the spot for themself. “There’s maybe fifty on the whole planet, mostly on the other side holed-up in what’s left of the settlement.”

Stardust nodded at the horizon thoughtfully, like they understood why those people were out here. Maybe they did, in a weird way. Anyone still living this far out, on a place that got no trade, were hiding from someone. More than likely, some of those people were hiding from Stardust’s family.

With another approving huff, Stardust grabbed the duffle bag and pointed at a spot near the wall of the canyon. “We should set the targets there!”

Rory shrugged and started walking, fishing a spray can from his bag and giving it a good shake. He marked out the target rings in fluorescent green.

“Those aren’t even…” Stardust critiqued.

He rolled his eyes and shouted back, “It’s not going to matter. You’re not going to hit them.”

“No one shoots at circles anyway.”

With a snort he took a few big steps to the side and then painted the crude outline of a person, a neon shadow on the rockface. It reminded him of when he was a kid on a rock not so different from this one. He and his sister had practiced on boulders, the side of a shed, and hollow synthetic skins they propped up in between. It had been a game when he was little. Even she had laughed then when they goofed around. But over those few years, it had changed. It had become increasingly important to hit the mark. It had stopped being fun—stopped being a game—and become survival.

A shot jolted him from his thoughts, a bullet of pink paint slapping the wall. Droplets of paint ricochet onto his cheek.

Rory turned slowly to look back at his attacker.

Stardust blinked and then heaved a laugh. They held their hands out to their sides and up a little, gun still in one. “A test shot?”

He raised an eyebrow and dropped the paint can on the ground by his boot, hands free to draw. They’d loaded up with paint rounds before getting off the ship. “What were you aiming it?”

They smiled sheepishly.

He waited.

Stardust held his gaze and even at that distance, he saw the boundless mischief there. He wasn’t sure they’d actually been aiming for him and not the wall with that first shot, but he knew they were going to try to shoot him this time.

The thrill of it was that for once in his life, Rory wasn’t sure who would be faster.

He wasn’t always the quickest, but he made a point of knowing when he wasn’t—of gauging others and being ready to jump or cheat when his life was on the line. And then there he stood, staring right at a Solinoh and not knowing if he’d survive, but not willing to run either.

Stardust’s eyes widened a fraction and he realized they didn’t know if they were faster than him either. The wind pushed across that space between them.

Their gun hand shifted, coming down and center to aim.

Rory drew and shot.

The sounds of it all were swallowed by the wind but he would swear he saw that splash of orange paint hit their vest before the two collided with his.

Stardust gaped in mock shock, one gloved hand tapping their heart and coming away with neon pink. They held it out to him like proof of betrayal and Rory couldn’t help but laugh. “You murdered me!”

“It was self-defense.”

They laughed, holstering their gun and waving him over. “I hit you first though.”

“The fuck you did.” He slid his pistol into the holster against his ribs.

“Oh, we will be revisiting the duel… But first!” They grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to stand facing the target wall. They were so busy trying to get things set up just right, that he was free to just watch them. They stood in front of him, their back to the target. “Okay… so the pirate is back there—”

“Why a pirate? Why not a merc? Or a primer thug?” Rory countered.

Stardust huffed. “It’s a pirate today. It’s usually a pirate out here…”

He didn’t argue, even though they were wrong. In his experience, it was usually just some random person that had either lost their mind or gone past desperation. But he knew that in Stardust’s limited experience of the edge, it was mostly pirates. That was fair, since they had a bounty on their head that was probably turning some of those average people into mercs and pirates. Desperation killed.

Stardust stepped up to him, focused on their game, and Rory stood still to watch. They were right in his space, almost hip to hip. Their hand slid up his side to settle on one of his guns. “You would be wearing a jacket,” they explained, practically whispering now that they were so close. “No one would expect it.”

They very slowly drew the gun from the holster and Rory held his breath, trying very hard not to read too much into this. His primer was very confusing. Just the other day they’d turned down his flirtation with a blush and then told their friend they might use him as a decoy to get away from their cousin…

But right now… right now, they were looking into his eyes and drawing his gun, slowly curling their arm around their own middle to aim blindly behind themself. They were so close that he felt their exhale on his lower lip.

They pulled the trigger.

Rory watched their pupils pulse with excitement at the shot. He tore his gaze from theirs to look at the wall and the splash of pain near the ground. “I told you,” he smirked.

They twisted around to see too. “That’s why we’re out here. To practice!”

“You could just turn and shoot…”

“That wouldn’t be as cool,” they countered. They weren’t wrong but missing would be so much worse. “Maybe if I pretend to be injured and you’re like, holding me up…”

Rory snorted. “How would that help?”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of your incredibly bad shot?”

“Of my brilliant idea!”

His laugh choked off when they put his gun back in his holster and he had to cough to hide it, looking away when they took up their position again—close.

[logicpng]

i Believe i am finally done making references

edit: pasting the image descriptions out of the alt text. since they're refs they're really long I am so sorry

[First image ID:

Digital artwork of Aldebaran Aster - a humanoid being in a suit, four arms, and a star shaped head - standing next to a large program window titled: "Aster: Info". He is holding up the mouse pointer in one of his hands and laughing, with a smug smile.

The text in the window reads:

"Current module:

[Selected radio button] Rigel [Selected radio button] Vega [Glitchy text box] Name: Aldebaran :)

Pronouns:

[Checked tick box] He/him [Unchecked tick box] She/her [Checked tick box] They/them

Other: [Long empty text field]

Module description:

[Following text in a large text box:]

The result of an undocumented bug, never caught during development. Aldebaran, as he dubs himself, combines Rigel's love for putting on a show and Vega's scripting skills, and it shows in the artistic ways he bends the OS to his will.

Being a fusion of two AIs unable to cooperate, though, has the side effect of giving him a bad temper and lack of patience. Combining that with the rush of being in control of everything from GUI to the very kernel? Doesn't seem like a smart idea. Especially not when the laptop has experimental technology baked into it.

But hey, you've backed up before this, right...?

[Text box ends]

[Large lavender OK button]"

First Image ID end]

[Second Image ID:

Digital artwork of The User - a human with a gray-green skin, dark green hair with a white t-shirt, track suit shorts and green socks - standing next to a large program window titled: "User information". They are standing with a laptop bearing the CaelOS logo on its back, and scratching their head, looking a little nervous.

The text in the window reads:

"Base info:

Name: Urs Norma; Pronunciation: OO-rs NOR-mah; Age: 25

Pronouns:

[Checked tick box] He/him [Checked tick box] She/her [Checked tick box] They/them

Other: Any/All

Personality profile:

[Following text in a large text box:]

Young adult figuring out... being an adult.

After hastily finding a used tech store, they found a replacement for their busted laptop. As it turns out, the machine hosts an OS that never saw the light of day, featuring experimental technology. At least, it's compatible with most software they need...

Despite the world being cruel and unforgiving, the spark of optimism remains bright. Just like the AI the laptop hides, all they can do is perpetually learn from their mistakes, and maybe even relay some of that knowledge to the little virtual assistants they find themself talking to every day.

[Text box ends]

[Large green OK button]"

Second Image ID]

[Third Image ID:

Reference image of Urs Norma - an androgynous person with gray-green skin and dark green hair. A large program window titled "The User: Outfits" shows them standing neutrally, facing the camera, in three different outfits:

Home: Plain white shirt, track suit shorts, green socks.

Work (casual): Green hoodie that says "gorf" with a cat face on it in white, gray-purple pants, and black dress shoes. Left and right hand feature black and white rings on their respective middle fingers.

Work (formal): Pink dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned at the top, same pants, same dress shoes, and same rings.

Behind them is an outline of Aster, that has text in it saying "height comparison aster :)". At the top of their rays, they're noticeably shorter than Urs.

A window titled "Head", slightly overlapping the large window, shows lineart of the user's head in profile and from the back.

Third Image ID end]

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

maybe shade would tag along with his daughter to the tournament and he's just there chilling in the background maybe giving jesse some parental advice and entertaining cam too. also he'll has to explain to someone he had a kid but never told them about it.

I wrote a thing, don't read it until October (...cuz spoilers, but also gives me time to nab all the typos):

. . .

Jesse’s lost track of who’s fighting who now—it’s nobody from Lloyd’s group, nor anyone he’d recognize otherwise. Looks like a Master of Shapes or something against that gosh darn Master of Surface Tension, if he had to guess. Therefore, he’s not particularly invested in the fight, and tries to seek some refuge from the chaotic crowd that Roby insists on hyping up further. 

As he wades his way through the stands, trying to be as inconvenient as possible, he sees an open area near one of the exits. Not too crowded, only a few guards…but if he squints, he thinks he sees someone lurking among the shadows. Part of him wants to turn right around and go back the other way, in order to avoid any unnecessary trouble…but a second look reveals that maybe the guy isn’t a source of trouble after all. 

“…Shade? Shade, is that you?!” Jesse asks in disbelief upon moving closer. He almost thinks it’s a trick of the light—but no, there’s Shade Vespertine himself, lurking in the shadows as he’s known to do. Shade’s head tilts upon hearing the call of his name, one foot revved back to make a quick retreat…but his features soften upon recognizing Jesse. 

With a small, almost imperceptible smile, Shade steps to the side, allowing some space for Jesse to take shelter as well. Jesse awkwardly and silently takes up the spot. 

“...well, well, the years appear to have been kind to you. Could hardly recognize ya," Shade remarks with approval. “I still remember you being that scrawny little thing even way back during the Resistance…”

Jesse wilts, knowing Shade’s right. But hey, he’s been working out…! And wrangling an eight-year-old. 

“Ahahaha. Yeah, I guess it’s just been a busy…several years…” Jesse concedes, running his fingers through his bangs. “...aaaand no signs of slowing, evidently.”

“Ha! That’s just the life of an Elemental Master, am I right?”

“Yeahhhhh…” Jesse swallows. His contacts have never felt more annoying. “Uh, um, any word from your sister since the Merge…?”

Shade’s expression goes flat. “Which sister?”

Jesse had assumed the answer would be obvious. “The one that was all evil but turned good in the clutch and helped us rebuild the Monastery…?”

“...Nope.” Shade sighs, shaking his head. “...but if she’s out there somewhere, I only hope she’s not doing something stupid. Though, that’d be a lot to ask from her regardless of what side she’s on.”

Jesse hums in acknowledgement, and the two fall silent after that. Shade was never one for much small talk anyway, and Jesse's never been good at not making a situation awkward—but their attention is taken up by the sudden uproar in the area. That Master of Surface Tension emerges victorious–somehow–and Roby rings in the next challengers.

One of them being the Master of Shadow.

"Oh snap, that must be you," Jesse says, prepared to lose his shred of company, but Shade shakes his head—a bit reserved, but mostly fond more than anything.

"Nah, that's not my mantle anymore."

"Huh? What do you–?" Jesse turns, and really looks at Shade this time...

And only then does he realize that Shade's pupils are white.

Before Jesse can dig into that, aforementioned summoned Master of Shadow rushes up into the area, laughing and waving at the crowd that cheers her on. She's the spitting image of Shade: short black hair, grayed skin, the signature armor of the Vespertines...and dark markings around those tell-tale lavender eyes.

The next match starts up; Obscuria ignites her hands in lavender and immediate uses the shadows cast by the buildings to her advantage, evading her opponent's first attack and countering with practiced ease. Shade lets out a bellowing whoop of a cheer; one that nearly startles Jesse off the balcony. He didn't know Shade was capable of such a prideful sound...!

...but, that does allow Jesse to put two and two together.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Especially one that's a teenager now.

Shade lets out a brisk chuckle, as if busted on the silly little secret. But this isn't funny—Jesse has questions!

“...aside from a few folks who wrenched it out of me on Chen’s Island, no one did, really. Obscuria wasn’t even born yet at that point, but...she was on the way. Couldn't believe I held onto my powers for as long as I did,” Shade explains. He turns back to the arena, smiling proudly as his daughter continues to hold her own in her battle. “Fifteen years sure passes by in a flash, huh?”

“Yeah…” Jesse agrees. But event thinking about that is making his head spin. Thus, as he is exceedingly good at, he changes the subject immediately. "Soooo...is there, like, a wife in the picture, ooor—?"

"You sure like to get straight and personal, don't ya?" Shade says with an eyebrow raised in amusement. Jesse flushes and turns away.

"I-I just try not to beat around the bush so much anymore! I figured you'd appreciate a person who gets straight to the point...!"

"Hmm, good point." Shade puts a hand on hip and focuses his gaze on the fight, not taking his eyes of the wonder that is Obscuria the whole time. "...her mother and I came together in an arranged marriage, if you must know. Nice enough woman, but the whole thing was basically a business transaction...and neither of us really wanted to see the relationship through. But once a new Vespertine heir was born, I let her go...and it's just been me and little Obscuria ever since. You can probably imagine why I was avoiding making a big deal out of the whole thing, eh?"

Jesse's heart sinks a bit at the tale, but Shade doesn't seen upset about it at all. If anything, he's ecstatic—at least for his standards—but it definitely shows in the way he hollers and cheers every time Obscuria makes a grand showing of her powers. Jesse even witnesses Obscuria checking over her shoulder at times, making sure her father's watching everything.

“...So, what about you? I would’ve assumed a hopeless romantic like yourself would’ve settled down by now,” Shade reasons. Jesse immediately turns red in spite of himself, and Shade lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Hey, don't give me that. You started this train. I just can't believe you and the other Ninja all still have your powers…didn't any of you slow down for even a second?”

Jesse coughs into his arm, embarrassment flooding through him like never before—and the way Shade smirks at him definitely isn't helping anything. But, he's right—Jesse started this. Info for info is only fair.

“Well, about that…I'm...not actually an Elemental Master anymore either," Jesse confesses. Shade recoils in surprise, tilting his head as he studies Jesse.

"But...your eyes...?"

"They're contacts." Jesse glances around for any security before demonstrating by taking one out, revealing his own white pupils hiding beneath. Now Shade looks stunned. Jesse pops the contact back in, sighing afterwards. "...and I've been using Blue Crystals to cover up my lack of powers otherwise."

"...I have so many questions," Shade says, and Jesse laughs dryly.

"Now you know I how felt when you mentioned Obscuria." Smiling, Jesse reaches into his pocket to fish out this phone. "...but I actually have a daughter too. Her name’s Camellia.”

Jesse scrolls through his phone to pick out some photogenic pictures of Cam, holding it out to Shade to admire. Shade whistles, swiping through them all. He actually smiles warmly at the sight of her, and to Jesse, that's one of the biggest surprises of all. Back then, Shade with a smile was unheard of...but now, he's breaking out with them like they're going out of style.

It's a nice change to see, if anything.

“...Well, ain’t she just a lil' cutie." Shade finally gives his verdict, handing back Jesse's phone. "She’s gotta be yours and Cole’s huh? Always knew ya’d tie the knot, with the way Cole was swooning over you during the whole tournament on the island…”

“That obvious, huh?” Jesse remarks wryly, pushing away any thoughts of Cole at the moment. The reason he'd even come this way was to get a break from that drama. “But, well…that’s why we call her our little magic miracle. ...on top of that literally being the case."

“Her eyes though…" Shade once more searches Jesse's gaze. "...she’s the new Master of Surprise, isn’t she?”

Jesse only nods quietly.

“…then what in the world are you doing competing here, man?”

“She’s only eight, and she of course doesn't have her True Potential yet…and with some shady rumors surrounding this event, I didn’t want her to get caught in any crosshairs. She’s staying with my sister right now…and so I took her invitation, and her place.”

Nervously, Jesse wrings his hands together, giving Shade a pleading look.

“...Please don’t tell anyone, though.”

Shade clamps a hand down on Jesse's shoulder. “You know me, your secret’s safe with me. Though I should’ve known something shady was accompanying a tournament…”

“Shade is your name; I’d be more surprised if you didn’t know,” Jesse chuckles. Shade rolls his eyes.

“Well, there’s no way I couldn’t have come. Ria finally got her True Potential only a couple of months ago, and she’s been itching for an excuse to go all out with her powers. I let her come…on the condition I got to go too. It embarrassed her a little bit, but ya gotta bend a few things to make sure the kids stay safe, you know? ...Even if ya gotta do it from the shadows.” 

Jesse again nods in agreement, falling quiet as Shade throws himself back into the match above. It's starting to wind down, and though Obscuria is sure to be the victor, the opponent still isn't down for the count just yet. The duo go at each other, matching blow for blow. Shade hollers out words of advice, encouraging cheers, booing the commendation, and...and fleetingly, Jesse imagines it's Cam up there instead.

She's the one giving it her all, and he's the one down below left only to cheer her on, but unable to interfere—

His chest abruptly aches with how much he misses her. 

“How do you know…" Jesse asks as if on autopilot, clenching at his chest. Shade almost misses the question, but turns to acknowledge it nonetheless. "....when they’re ready to do more? How do you know when...it's finally okay...to just let them go, and trust that they'll be all right?"

“Heh, that’s an easy one, man.” Shade elbows Jesse in the arm. “…they’ll tell you.”

“B-But—" Jesse thinks back to all the countless times Cam's insisted in getting some ninja training early, or wanted to go on a mission, or her desires to attempt the Spinjitzu course...but she's still just so young. "–how do you know the different between when they’re just being overconfident and impatient....and when they’re genuinely ready?”

The crowd gasps as Obscuria takes a tumble; Jesse gasps in alarm, immediately fearing that she's about to be eliminated. But Shade doesn't react at all, simply looking upon the spectacle for what it is. Obscuria manages to pull herself back up, block another oncoming attack, then manifest a shadow whip that grabs her adversary by the ankle and flinging them out of bounds, officially winning her the match.

Jesse's eyes go wide in astonishment as Shade throws both his fists into the air, cheering louder than the crowd itself. Obscuria bounces around in celebration–much more spirited than one would expect from someone that revels in shadows—but the first person she starts running to is Shade.

"DAD! Dad, I did it!"

Shade, proud as ever, holds out his arms in preparation to catch her.

“Failing is a part of life, Jesse, you know that. It’s going to happen no matter you try to prevent it, and it’s important that they experience it happening…so they’ll know how to handle it even without you there to soften the blow. Sometimes...you just have to let them try, and see for themselves.”

Shade finally catches Obscuria, spinning her around in a celebratory hug full of rejoicing and laughter.

"...But you should know better than anyone else that they just might surprise you."

Jesse's shoulders sink, slipping away to let the father and daughter revel in their celebration. He ignores the protesting ache that blooms throughout his chest; for they earned it; they deserve it...

...and, once more, he stares at his hands and wonders if coming here on his lonesome really was the best choice.

[you-aremy-sunshine]

#5 - i hate your big dumb combat boots - b.b.

summary: you have met this man once in your life, at a bar after you passed out. and the second time you meet him it definitely is less pleasant. thankfully you never ever have to see him again. except now you are forced on a plane with him to the mediterranean because the tickets are non-refundable. fuck this.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.3k

a/n: oh my lord. guys i am so sorry. everything just like slipped my mind. anyways enjoy!! join my taglist!

you got up from the breakfast table, “i’m gonna go change,” you angled your head towards the door of the bedroom, “also, bucky i have some activities planned for today, so you should too.”

he nodded, picking up his plate and utensils.

four bikini options were laid out in front of you. what am i going to wear? subconsiously, you wanted to look good for bucky, or any other hot guy that happened to pass by you. but mostly bucky.

your options consisted of the floral bikini you wore last time, a lavender colored one, a sage green bralette bikini, and a light blue triangle bikini with a tropical flower.

you chose the lavender triangle bikini, it fit pretty similar to the floral one. you felt confident in how you looked, your hair still a bit messy from sleep. you slashed some tap water on it and ran your fingers through it. on top of your bathing suit you threw on a cute little linen white skirt and a flowy tank. a bit of your mid section showed, enough to induce looks but still look casual.

you quickly did a light bit of beach makeup, sprayed a bit of perfume, grabbed your beach towel and got out of the room.

“bucky, the room’s free,” you called out, preoccupied with vila, kaiya and sol’s texts.

“yeah, ok.” he replied, drying off the last of the dishes.

you packed a bag for the both of you. towels, sunscreen, water, snacks and extra clothes were what was shoved into an insanely small beach bag.

“bucky, i need an extra change of clothes for you,” you called out to the room, “we’re probably gonna get dirty.”

he grunted in reply, walking out of the door in a matter of minutes. he sported a fitted black tee with those short ass swim trunks. you know the ones that show off a guy’s whole leg. the shorts displayed his muscular thighs, along with a tattoo of a snake biting a butterfly. he threw a ratty gray-blue towel over his sholder.

how come you never noticed this tattoo?

now at this point it was becoming noticeable to him that you were inspecting him, maybe even checking him out.

“why are you looking at me like that,” he turned to face you.

“i don’t know, i just never noticed your tattoos.” you glance shifted from his eyes to a new tattoo you spotted. it kind of looked like a quote, “the snake one is pretty cool.”

his face lit up, “thanks, i recently got these yin and yang koi fish on my arm.” he showed the inside of his arm. the tattoo itself was a little bit swollen and red but you probably couldn’t tell from afar.

you only had two tattoos, one emily dickinson quote on the inside of your wrist, and the second a simple line art of flowers and leaves down your spine.

“i saw another one on your other arm, what does it say?” you asked, not trying to probe.

“oh yeah! it’s an emily dickinson quote, my sister rebecca loved her poetry.” he said, a gentle smile lifting his rough features.

“no fucking way, i have an emily dickinson quote too,” you said, a bit excited that he had something in common.

“what quote is it?” he asked.

“unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.” you recited, having the line already memorized.

“that one is one of my favorites, mine is ‘dying is a wild night and a new road’” he repeated off of his arm, “i forgot it was there for the longest time.” he said this with a bittersweet expression.

“i didn’t know that you had a sister,” you replied “yeah, i don’t know, i don’t usually talk about her a lot,” he said, his features fell gracefully, “she passed in a car accident a few years back.”

you rubbed the spot where your dickinson quote was, “i’m sorry,” you said, looking up at him. his moonstone eyes shifted uncomfortably.

“yeah she was the best,” he said softly, “but, anyways let’s get going. i don’t want to be late for whatever you have planned for us.”

he passed you his towel to put in the bag, then led the two of you out the door. you had ordered an Uber, so the driver was already waiting for you when you got to the street. it was a small car, so the two of you were kind of squshed together in the backseat.

many bumps and “sorry’s” later you arrived to kythnos. lyra helped you set this up as well as a few other tourist-y things to do for the rest of the week. you paid the driver before getting out.

you both stepped out of the car and admired the view. the mediterranean was breathtaking, especially here. it was clear, yet turquoise, practically begging for you to jump in.

“scuba diving! what do you think?” you turned to bucky, asking for his opinion.

“yes, this is amazing,” he said, his sunglasses already on, “thanks.”

you led bucky down to the shore where the instructor was about to start demonstrating how to put on the gear, etc.

let's pretend for this that you n buck have scuba licenses 🙏🙏

you took your shorts off and put on the gear. you set your clothes in the bag and placed it closer to land, so the bag would not get wet.

bucky put on his scuba gear too, and followed after you.

the boat was close to shore, tied to a pole farther to the entrance to the beach. you hopped in, bucky following after you. there were already a handful of people in the boat. three sisters, you assumed, were sitting next to each other, talking animatedly amongst them. one had light brown hair, another dark brown, and the other had pink and brown hair. you could tell they were speaking spanish. next to them were an older looking couple, the man had a salt and pepper beard and the lady had red hair with streaks of gray and white peeking through. they were talking too, but a bit more calm than the three sisters. the intructor from the shore started pushing the boat, and then hopped on. the boat engine started and the instructor began to tell the group about the islands, what fish there are, all things interesting.

you gazed out onto the water, the sky was a bit dull, but you checked the weather before and it said it was going to clear up.

the first stop to the diving trip was gorgeous, the water was turquoise and so clear. there were countless fish and sea animals.

the second stop was the same, but different fish, and the water went deeper, and the water was cooler.

the final stop was insane, there were statues almost but they were 50 ft underwater.

the tour ended around 3pm, the two of you eager to eat lunch.

you ate quickly at a street food place, and then walking back to the little bungalow.

“so…” you asked, “what did you think?”

“that was perfect in everyway,” he replied, “would relive again 10/10. but, now its my turn for a surprise trip.”

“oh god,” you sighed, “what does that mean…”

“not much, just a little dinner,” the two of you reached the door, “i found it online, and it seems like its perfect.”

“okay,” you had to put a little trust in him, after all he couldn’t be awful at planning.

--

hope u enjoyed! take a min to comment or reblog &lt;3

[asha-mage]

edelgard and dimitri (platonic/siblings), reincarnation

[Send me a character (or ship) and a one word prompt and I will write you a small ficlet or drabble based on it!]

Edelgard glared at the papers spread out before her- trying to will the various reports, correspondences, and ledgers into some form she liked better. She felt old today- old and gray and worn out. There had been more days like that recently. Too many. They didn’t yet outnumber the days where she felt strong and able, passionate and fierce, but they were not negligible anymore either.

It was the price for what had been done to her she knew, when the Agarthans had forged her into a living weapon. That strength did not define her any longer- what defined her was what always had: her will, her determination, her refusal to surrender onto uncertain fate. But the price still had to be paid.

Sighing Edelgard pulled the next stack to her- trade reports out of Gronder Field. There was a problem with the sugar crop- some blight on the cane stalks that would need to be dealt with if she wanted to keep sugar prices from skyrocketing- and she would need to review the wheat taxes again if she wanted to keep Fodlan grain competitive with Almyran. But before she could do more then begin examining the top sheet there was a knock at her study door.

Edelgard looked up and smiled at who she saw standing there. As always something about August, about the tilt of his eyes maybe, or the shy corner of his smile, made Edelgard’s throat catch a little bit. It wasn’t the joy of a parent seeing themselves in their child- Edelgard knew that feeling well with August and knew this emotion to be something else. This was something sharper, something edged in glass as it rattled around her ribcage.

“Good morning Augie.” Edelgard said, setting down the sheet on the pile. “What can I do for you?”

August chewed at his lip for a moment before coming fully into her study. He was almost twelve now, and his mop of black curls had grown enough to hang down almost over his eyes. He had unfortunately inherited his father’s complexion on top of it and some of his reserved manner, creating an effect that most the court regarded as cringing and shy. But Edelgard knew better. She knew that if she pushed back his unruly bangs and reminded him to stand straighter, he would. At age ten there was already there was already a fierce light in this lavender eyes, and when he forgot himself enough to find confidence, a air of command and strength that would serve him well one day.

Of all the miracles that had come from forging a real peace in Fodlan, August had been the most unexpected, and the most beloved.

But at this moment he was more unsure than she had ever seen him before. He plucked at the hem of his coat as if hot, and he refused to meet her eyes as he settled in the chair before her desk. Edelgard felt her guard rise and she sat back in her chair, squaring her shoulders more out of old habit then real thought their might be need.

“Augie.” Edelgard tried again, letting the lightness slip from her voice in favor of seirouness. “What is wrong?”

“I don’t know how too….” August began then cut off. For a moment he seemed unable to go on, words failing him, but then all in a rush he said, to fast for her to understand, one word spilling into the next. “Whatwasuncledimitrilike?”

Before she could begin to sort through it he began to breath heavily, one hand going to his chest and Edelgard felt panic flare in her. Their had been so much worry during his infancy and childhood- what the experiments done to Edelgard might mean for a child. Their had been some doubt he would even last a year, and though he was heart and hale now, some fears never left a mother’s mind once allowed in.

He began to speak again, gesturing wildly, but it was to fast for her to understand, and she thought their was a wildness in whatever he was trying to communicate.

“Augie! Slow down! Breathe.” Edelgard said, cutting across him and trying to hide how bewildered she was. She stood and moved to the small drink cart she kept in her office for entertaining dignitaries and officials, pouring out a glass of water and handing it to Augie. “I need you to breath.”

August took the water with shaking hands and gulped it down in a single great swallow that made Edelgard’s eyebrows rise higher. For a moment she considered summoning Hubert, but decided against it the next second. Hubert loved his son, but Edelgard did not think he could help much in this situation.

When August had managed a few steadying breaths Edelgard rested a hand on his shoulder and moved to sit beside him in one of the plush chairs arrayed before her desk. It was a small thing, but maybe it would help him see her as a mother, a source of comfort, rather than the all powerful Emperor in this moment. “Augie.” She said firm but not unkind. “Please, try again.”

August turned his gaze to the bottom of the glass and when he spoke it was in little more than a whisper, but Edelgard’s ears were sharp enough to catch each word on their own this time. But understanding the words shed no clarity on anything.

“What was Uncle Dimitri like?”

For a long moment Edelgard stared down at August trying to understand, to wrap her head around where this had come from, and how it connected to this fear, raw as an open nerve. But in the end all she could do was answer the question.

“He was kind.” Edelgard said simply. It was the truth- or as much of the truth as mattered to her. She chose to remember Dimitri as the sweet boy with the idealistic naivety, who had stumbled trying to learn to dance. Not as the Maelstrom King, the cold blooded tyrant Rhea had forged him into. “Gentle hearted. Fair minded He never paid any mind to station or birth or blood.” She smiled, and if there was a note of bitterness to it, it was only for the circumstances that had drawn them into conflict. She shook free and turned her gaze back to August, trying not to frown. “Why do you ask?”

August looked up from his glass, but instead of looking at her or answering her question, his eyes had found their way to her desk. He was gazing at the various things on it: a collection of ivory miniatures, one for each of the Black Eagle Strikeforce, a few lacquered boxes containing writing instruments and keepsakes. The hateful stacks of paper of course. Other Knick Knacks that had been gifted to her by various important officials and diplomats and that property demanded she display as a gesture of good will. Nothing to account for his interest- just a way to avoid meeting her gaze.

“Why did he oppose you then?” August asked quietly. “If he was so eagletarian? If he didn’t believe in class and wanted to treat everyone fairly?”

Edelgard blew out a breath. “Many reasons. Duty to begin with.” Duty to the ghosts and atrocities of the past, for which she could never blame him, even if she didn’t understand. “Loyalty to the Church.” That time there was no doubting the bitterness that slipped into her voice. There was much Edelgard could never forgive Rhea for, but maybe most of all what she had done with Dimitri’s kind heart and loyal soul. “But mostly…I think it was the belief that he had no other choice. That the future that we were fighting for was an idealistic fairy tale- and that his kingdom would not survive its coming.”

Again August fell into silence, staring at her desk. His eyes had locked onto one of the keepsake boxes, plain dark wood carved with flames. “….But you still call him brother. You still raised me to call him Uncle, and memorialized him in Faerghus.” August said quietly. “Even though he opposed you.”

Edelgard sighed. “I loved him, August. He was my brother. If I could have brought him over to our side, found a way to free Fodlan and keep him alive, I would have.”

August stood and moved forward. She didn’t call him down for the rudeness- not here and now. Something was strange about this, something delicate held within these words that she didn’t yet understand. He moved to her desk and laid a hand on the keepsake box. It held gifts from her former teachers. A fishing lure from Byleth, a painted fan from Mannuela, and an invention of Hannerman’s- all given to her in thanks for the funding she had provided for rebuilding the Officer’s Academy.

“But you did what you had to.” August said, his voice quiet and more afraid than Edelgard had ever heard it. “To protect the realm.”

Edelgard nodded. “I always will. That is the core of me. I…” It was her turn to look away. A hot burning had filled her throat, acid and sour. “I had to make a more just, more kind world in August.”

For the sake of the girl who had died in a cell beneath this very palace. Died screaming after watching all her siblings face the same fate. But unlike her siblings, that girl had been reborn, remade into something more- something fanged and cold and vicious. And for her suffering to have meaning, that girl’s pain to matter, she had to destroy the world that had made it possible. To free humankind from all those that would chain it. Nothing else would honor her.

August’s hand rested on the lid of the keepsake box and he took a deep shaking breath. “Mother I….” And again words seemed to fail him, his teeth biting into his lip hard enough to leave red marks in the flesh. Edelgard stood, to reassure him, to comfort him- to tell him those days were over and the world was free, and nothing would ever threaten him. But before she could her son spoke. “I’ve been having dreams.”

Edelgard blinked. “Dreams?” She repeated.

August nodded. “I...I've been dreaming of a field.” He said, his voice quiet and harsh. “Soaked in the rain. Long grassy hills made muddy and slippery by a downpour.” He turned his gaze down to his hand. “When I dream...there are three armies on that field.”

Alarm shot through Edelgard like a wildfire. But now that August had begun it seemed he had no idea how to stop. The words were falling from him in wave after wave.

“I’m marching across that field holding a spear of bone.” He lifted one hand and flexed his fingers as if able to feel its heft, its weight there. “And all around me are friends, allies, followers, subjects and ...and they're turning into monsters. Their flesh is warping before my eyes. Their screaming and snarling and becoming...beasts. Huge four legged lizards and twisted up masked brutes and…” He inhaled and his whole body shook. “And then their getting cut down, by….”

Edelgard didn’t need him to continue. She was there herself all over again. On the field where so many had died caked in mud and splattered with gore- their own and their enemy’s alike.

Rain is running down her face and her ax is flashing in her hands as she chops through the Umbral Beasts that stand between her and the Kingdom’s center line. All around her the Black Eagle Strikeforce is arrayed. The Church’s army is already retreating northwards, being harried by wyvern riders led by Petra, to keep them from circling back. The Empire need only break the Kingdom’s line to win the day and clear the path to Fhirdiad.

She is cold. Focused. Razor sharp, the way she always is in battle. If they do this, they're going to win. She will pull down the false Goddess, and she will burn out Those Who Sslither in the Dark and the world will be free. She will make it so with her own two hands, and with the aid of those who had stood by her, she would-

And then she sees him, coming towards her, Areadbhar twirling his hands as he slices through Imperial soldiers left and right, his blonde hair splattered back from his head by the rain, his blue eyes burning with fire, and with the glow of the Crest of Blaiddyd. Something inside of her aches at the sight of him, her brother, but she steals her heart. Hardens it to stone. She knows what must be done.

Their eyes meet and the hatred burning in him is alien and twisted. The innocent boy who had tried to give her a dagger was nothing but ashes. Only the Maelstrom King remained.

He bares his lance at her, point first, and she raises her ax and-

Edelgard was drawn out of her memory by the sound of the box opening. Her son had reached inside to pull out Hannerman’s invention- a miniature version of the instrument he had developed to detect Crests. Instead of a bulky array of metal and crystal, it’s no bigger then a compass: a simple glass orb held in metal circles. He had developed even smaller ones in the time since, Edelgard understood. It’s a novelty really, a token of his early research.

“August-“ Edelgard said, shaking herself. He flinched at the use of his full name but she pressed on ahead. “It doesn't mean anything. It’s just dreams. You’ve just been listening to too many history-“

But August shook his head. “I….I know things mother. That no history ever talks about. You hit him on the shoulder first, didn’t you? Here.” With his free hand he touches his shoulder, right above the joint, where it connects his body to his neck. Edelgard had- the first blow would have taken his head, if not cleaved him in half, had he not managed to dodge at just the right moment. She had managed only to draw blood instead. “He countered by spinning, then three quick stabs and-“

Edelgard shook her head. It was true, all of it, but that didn’t mean- “August. You're dreaming of the past then that’s all. This is some magic at work. Some part of…” Of being born of the Argathan’s Hegemon. Their new Nemesis. That was all. Lindhardt or Lystheia would be able to find an explanation, maybe a cure.

“I thought so too. I…I hoped so. But then I, this morning I-” He took a final deep breath and then switched on the device. She waited for the symbol of the Crest of Flames to appear, as it would have for Edelgard or Byleth. Or even the Crest of Seiros, that strange shield lighting up the darkness. Instead it glowed a soft, gentle blue as the strange fissured crystal of the Crest of Blaiddyd appeared on the metal orb instead.

For a while they both just stared at it, even as the light began to fade, the crystal orb blinking out to clear again. They both seemed to hold their breath. Waiting for what came next.

Edelgard looked at her son. Dark haired and pale but with her lavender eyes, and sharp jaw and courtly demeanor. And again that feeling, that glass edged thing rattling around her rib cage, made itself known. Only now she could put a name to it. Draw the line between the crinkle of his eyes, and the gentle swell of his laugh, and the shy tilt of his smile, and the boy she had once taught to dance in the gardens of the Royal Palace at Fhirdiad.

A thousand questions ran through her mind, a thousand fears and doubts- A mother’s fear for something unknown and possibly dangerous clawing at her child. A girl’s fear of long buried pain being exhumed into the light of day, with all its rank unfair decay. And yes, an Emperor’s fear, for what this might mean for the realm, for the future, for the peace she had labored so hard to make. It was a part of her, and there was no use in denying it. 

But it was not the only part of her, and here and now, in this place, it was not the strongest.

She stood and August flinched back as if expecting an attack, but Edelgard instead gently took him into her arms, folding her son into the circle of her strength. She thought of Dimitri in that moment, of all the ways she wished she could have protected him, shielded him, seen him flourish as she knew he could.

If only we were born in a time of peace, you might have lived a joyful life, as a benevolent ruler.

How often had she thought of those words, when long nights and exhaustion had dragged her back to that field, that battle, that moment? She had meant them. She still did.

“Ssshhhh.” Edelgard murmured as her son’s arms tightened around her middle and his tears started to fall. How long had this burden been weighing on him? A slowly steadily growing weight in his mind, that had finally become too heavy to bear? It didn’t matter. HE had come to her- maybe believing the worst, maybe hoping for it. But he would find none of that. They lived in a time of peace, a world set free from the sorrows that had destroyed him before. She didn’t know how or why this had happened. And she did not care. “I’m right here Augie. I’m right here.”

You are not alone this time Dima. This time, I am strong enough to protect us both.        

And she would, no matter what.

[spacedoutman]

Never too young to die | Oc X Velvet von Ragnar (Part 1)

Penny. The disappearance of the love of her life never stopped haunting top-secret agent Helena “Leni” Hé. What happens when the ghost of her past comes back to not only haunt her, but put everything Leni had ever fought for on the line? What happens when that ghost is the psychopathic Velvet von Ragnar?

Can she stop herself from falling for her again?

Gonna start posting parts here after arguing with people on Facebook.

Warnings: Dark subjects such as abuse, addiction and mental health struggles.

Where would that girl end up? Hopefully, whatever happened, it would be the best it could possibly be. Leni’s mind whisked her away like a hurricane. Penny. Maybe her name would change at some point, right? Maybe, she’d wind up in a prestigious college and move on to never worry about anything again.

Maybe, hopefully, she could use dollar bills as makeup wipes and reassure Leni there was a lot more in the bank and that there was nothing to worry about.

Click. The door pulled Leni’s hand like it was its life mission to slam. Leni fought a war to ease it shut. She locked it. Her heart almost burst from her chest like a bullet. Of course, she had no problem with that. Penny didn’t look like a penny. Leni turned around. There was no way in hell she looked like a Penny.

The dim overhead light touched her features, reflecting her dull eyes and dying her smokey eye-shadow brown. Her white teeth shone between her full lips as a hazy grin ran across them, emphasizing her smile lines. What would her eyes look like if they smiled too? Penny looked more like a Theodora, Evangeline or Maria. If she were a Theodora, her nickname would be Theda.

She looked nothing like Theda Bara. Hell, she should’ve been standing in the driveway of a gilded mansion though, not some dumpy gas station bathroom. Penny’s features were far softer than even Leni’s warm gaze. She’d definitely look stunning in some of Theda’s outfits, that was for sure. Maybe she moved like Theda too. Quiet humming took over. Leni’s heart still rushed with adrenaline.

Penny somehow looked exhausted. Leni cupped her face and pulled her over. Her lips against Penny’s was what heaven was. The smell of lavender conquered the slight hint of mold.

Penny melted into her. Leni grasped her shoulders and pulled her in more. Closer was written all over Leni’s mind. Fire raged in their kiss. Leni’s hands raced through Penny’s curly jet hair. Penny’s arms hung loosely around her neck. Time stopped. Mint overwhelmed Leni’s taste buds in the best way possible. Leni would never pull-

Penny pulled away. Leni cupped her face. Penny’s eyes hung half-shut as she gazed through her thick lashes. Her brows drew together slightly and her lips rested parted. She was drunk on her presence. Leni’s head spun enough to erase the stained up white-ish and brown walls. A soft grin spread across her face. “I just wanted to let you know how beautiful you are.”

Penny looked down for a moment. “I had my eye one of those blue sparkly cars outside.“ Penny said a bit absentmindedly. “You know, those fancy ones?”

“Is that your way of telling me you love me?” Leni teased, Penny gave an airy giggle.

“We’ll definitely get married next then.”

Married. That word sent a slew of happy memories through Leni’s head. Like, running her hands through Penny’s hair even when it grayed, or taking her sweet little honeysuckle to any city she even mentioned. Penny blinked long and slow. Leni couldn’t wipe away her grin. “But wait.” Penny’s eyes widened a bit. She looked down and to the side, her brows pressing down.

“No way. If we did, everyone would be able to tell we were a couple. Our names sound too alike.” She mumbled as if it were the second coming of Jesus (or third).

Leni giggled. She tilted Penny’s chin up. Penny looked up at her, her smile faded by now. “That doesn’t matter.” Leni shrugged. “If we went somewhere far away from here, it wouldn’t even matter. Plenty of Pennies and Lenis hang out all the time.”

“That’s true, Helena, but wouldn’t it raise a lot of suspicion?”

“Just as much suspicion as us being in this bathroom together.” Leni replied, matter of factly but still playfully. “The way I look at you has probably given us away.”

Penny looked down with a little smile. Leni’s hand slid, stopping at her upper arm. Penny leaned into her touch. “Every time I look at you, I hear an angel’s chorus.”

“I can say the same for you.” Penny looked up at her. “What would we do after we got married?”

“What married couples normally do.” Leni joked. “But the rest? We’ll figure it out.”

“Take it day by day.”

“Yeah...” Leni reassured in a dreamy sigh.

Penny rested her hands on the rim of the bathroom sink and sat down. Leni looked up at her. Penny sighed, looking away at nothing. Her pupils unfocused. “There’s not enough room for me.” Leni said playfully. Penny scooted—Leni moved her right back, eyes still wide. “Don’t hurt yourself!” Penny burst into chuckles before looking up at the ceiling and sitting against the mirror.

“I’ll never have to visit another art museum, I can tell you that for sure.” Leni said with delight, stepping beside her and sweeping up her hand (carefully).

Penny looked down at her before bursting into chuckles. Music to Leni’s ears. Leni joined her gladly. “I don’t think anyone’s going to notice our absence.” She shrugged. “We could stay here all night.”

“Does anyone really come in here?” Asked the concerned Penny.

“Drew probably would.” Leni joked. If Penny were drinking something, she would’ve spit it out.

Penny smiled and raised an eyebrow as if she were reprimanding her. Leni rested a hand on her jaw, caressing her cheek with her thumb. “Don’t you have curfew?-” “Curfew my ass.” Leni scoffed. “I’m twenty something and still crashing on mom’s couch.” Leni’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh,--speaking of!”

Penny leaned close. Leni laid the tip of her pointer finger on her chest and pushed her back gently. “Wait.” Leni cooed. “Better yet, close your eyes and give me your hands.” Penny looked away and closed her eyes. She raised her hands. Leni opened her palms and reached into her oversized leather jacket. Penny shrunk a bit.

“Are you getting me a lighter?” Penny huffed, trying to pull a hand away.

“Even better. Cigarettes for days.”

Shiny pearls clicked as Leni laid a what, two or three-hundred year old necklace?, in Penny’s palms. She closed her hands carefully and eased them against her chest. “That feels weird.” Penny whispered humorously… but maybe a little awkwardly.

“Open your eyes.”

Penny looked down. Her jaw could’ve hit the floor as she gasped. “I don’t believe it! You know how much your mother values this thing-”

“I know.” Leni assured, anger sprinkled into her calm voice. “She’ll grieve more than if I got into some freak accident. But as this point, I think she deserves it.”

Leni waited for some optimism to leave Penny. Penny held the necklace close to her chest. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath of the crisp air. “Well, if some freak accident happens, you can count on me to hold it dear.” Penny said in a honey-drenched voice, quiet enough to be a whisper.

“You know if you sell it, you can get a place out of here.” Leni said quickly.

Penny held it tighter. “You won’t ever have to worry about any of those pricks again.” She grew assertive. Her chest tightened. “Not only that, you can get your ass to college and-”

“Leni.” Penny’s little voice rained on the flame. “Everything’s okay.”

Leni’s expression softened. “You’re right.” She bit her lip. “It is okay.” Penny leaned in. Leni cupped her face. She glanced at the necklace which shone like stars in the light. Penny clutched it tightly, yet her hands were as gentle as a dove’s wings. Leni’s shoulders drooped. She looked away for a moment before composing herself.

She rubbed Penny’s cheek with her thumb. Penny closed her eyes, savoring her touch. Leni leaned in, planting a little kiss on her nose. Her thumb hit something rough. Leni forced herself to look. A couple band-aids clung to Penny’s cheek. Only two showed themselves. The rest were hidden under Penny’s sweater. At least there weren’t as many as typical.

Hopefully, there wouldn’t be as many bruises this time either. Leni felt as dizzy as she would if she spun. She closed her eyes before-

Leni yanked the glass off the nightstand. Her lungs collapsed as she heaved for air. Her hands shook like mad as she raised the glass to her mouth. Her gasps echoed like her head was a chamber. She chugged. The water failed to help her dry throat. The glass slipped from her hand, crashing against her leg then rolling off and onto the bed.

Darkness touched the pretty neat room, melting it all into an ugly blur.

Where did that girl end up? She could still see Penny as well as she could a picture. Leni rested a hand on her chest, slowing her breathing and closing her eyes. She laid her head back. It was just as easy to remember her trembling hands as she sat on the sofa of that old trailer, waiting for the effects of whatever her mother took to sweep away her grief.

Leni wiped the tears from her eyes. Another deep breath. She’d be lying if she denied feeling a leftover bit of that dread every time one of those blasted memories rolled around. She climbed out of bed. The thick blankets rolled off her. She pulled herself over to the window, taking the dramatic curtains and sweeping them open.

Golden lights shone like stars as they lined the yard. The pool water shone deep blue, touching the cobblestone pavement around it. The moonlight clung to the neatly placed pool chairs, reflecting off the silver grills and shining through the umbrellas that shielded the spotless glass tables. Lush rose bushes watched behind the white picket fences. She breathed deeply, swearing she could smell them from here.

Penny would smile. Why was she still thinking about Penny-

“Mom?”

Leni lowered the magazine. The sun beat down angrily. She looked up at Cliff through her sunglasses and smiled happily. Neon green and purple pool noodles were stuffed under his arms. “I’m going to do something crazy.” He said, bursting with confidence. Leni grinned widely and nodded.

“You know what?”

“What?”

Leni rested an arm on the arm of the pool chair and shut the magazine. “Don’t forget the propeller you were building.” She said playfully. “I think it’s in the garage.” He nodded as if he were taking notes.

“Alright, see you, mom!”

“See you, Cliff. Good luck!”

Cliff gave a rushed nod and scampered off. Leni opened the magazine and looked down. She couldn’t get the grin off her face. Helena “Leni” Hé had seen more than her fair share of things as a top-secret agent. But she’d won in life. She’d succeeded. She had her son, her mansion and hella cash. So why was the memory of Penny, the girl that disappeared all those years ago, still haunting her?

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Three

Part One, Part Two -- Chrono

---------------

The house they’ve acquired has two bedrooms. They only use one.

(There’d been panic, that first night, waking up alone. He’d shaken and gasped and felt his heart beat out of his chest, unable to move until something gave. Nothing did.)

(The General had felt it, had woken up from Rex’s own panic and rushed in to remind him that he still had someone left, and Rex had snapped out of his fear and into his grief.)

(He’d bottled it back up by morning, but they didn’t sleep apart anymore.)

The bed is big enough for two people to sleep apart, if with an unfortunate tendency to smack hands across faces in one’s sleep. There’s room on the floor for the crib, and a desk in the corner that neither of them have used yet. The armoire that the house came with is beautifully crafted, but empty save for Anakin’s outer robe. What little they’ve bought so far has been for the twins, and that’s all sorted with military precision into the drawer chest.

It’s nearly first light when one of the twins start fussing. Rex had been ready to wake up anyway, and rolls out of bed before Anakin can fully come out of drowsing. He makes his way over to the shared crib, finds that it’s Leia making noise, and picks her up.

“Buir’s got you,” he mutters, carefully bouncing her as he makes his way back to the bed. He hopes, however futile it may be, that Luke won’t hear her across the room.

“Rex?” Anakin mutters, fighting his way awake.

“Go back to sleep, General, I’ve got this,” Rex tells him.

Anakin ignores him, which is patently unsurprising. The man leverages himself up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Give ‘er here.”

“General, I’ve got it,” Rex insists. “Go back to sleep.”

His general scoots back to lean against the headboard and starts tugging open his sleep shirt. “It’s been a week, Captain.”

Oh. That.

...his chest does look swollen. Rex hesitates to call them anything approaching ‘breasts,’ especially since Anakin had confirmed that he still identified as undeniably male, but there’s definitely some bulge there that wasn’t before. It’s not quite enough for the nipple to point down the way Rex is pretty sure most breastfeeding mothers’ do, but there’s something.

Rex hesitates. “Do you feel... uh, full?”

Anakin smiles, bags under his eyes. He reaches out for his daughter. “Enough to give it a try.”

When Leia is in his arms, Anakin carefully guides her little head to where she can latch on to one side. It’s a little awkward, given the aforementioned lack of heft making it point out instead of down, but she gets the hang of it after a few seconds. Anakin makes a face once the suckling starts in earnest, but rubs at Leia’s head and mutters encouragement at her nonetheless.

“Feels weird?” Rex asks, shifting back until he can lean against the headboard as well, shoulder to shoulder with his general.

“Yeah, kinda,” Anakin says. “Good weird, though. Like I’m doing something right.”

“The pamphlet mentioned that breastfeeding usually releases hormones in both the parent and child to encourage connection, right?” Rex paraphrases. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Yeah,” Anakin says.

Rex watches the man start to smile softly, an expression that’s been damned rare since this whole mess started. He’s happy for his general to find happiness in his children, if nothing else.

“You called yourself buir,” Anakin says softly, adjusting Leia a little as she hits at his chest a little. “Good.”

“You said I was family for them,” Rex says. He reaches out and brushes a finger over Leia’s cheek. He can’t help his little smile anymore than Anakin could. “So, yeah, I’m going to encourage that.”

There’s little noises coming from the crib again, soon after. Rex gets up and fetches Luke, whispers nonsense comfort at him until he gets back in the bed, and then glances at Anakin’s chest with doubt. The meaning is clear enough.

“Leia’s almost done, and they’re small,” Anakin assures him. “I can hold both. They’ll probably need a bottle later, though.”

“Not enough production capacity?”

“I’ve got twins, Rex.”

They get Luke settled easily enough, and then a few minutes later, Leia’s done.

Anakin doesn’t pass her back over immediately, just stares down, unfocused and silent.

“Sir?”

Anakin doesn’t budge.

Rex hopes this is just Force osik again. He puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and squeezes.

The man inhales sharply, eyes watering. “Oh.”

“General.”

“I--a vision. I don’t usually get them when I’m awake, and--oh, honey, you are going to look so much like your mother,” Anakin whispers, staring at Leia with teary adoration. “You’re going to be lovely as the stars and twice as dangerous, yes you are.”

Good things, then. They’ve had too much bad news for Rex to take this as anything other than a positive. He reaches out with both hands, and Anakin reluctantly hands a baby over.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Rex tells her, and feels Anakin hitch a wet laugh next to him. “Do you think we should let your Papa rest? I do. Let’s get you dressed for the day while he finishes up with your brother.”

“Papa?” Anakin asks wryly, adjusting Luke in his arms.

“Easier for them to say the first few years, and I liked the way it sounded when you said it a few days ago,” Rex says, shifting to his feet. “That or ‘Daddy,’ but I figured she looks like the type to say Papa.”

“Hm,” Anakin says, his eyes far away. “I guess there wasn’t... I didn’t spend much time in the creche, and nobody was really calling anyone a father.”

“Tubies,” Rex says, but doesn’t elaborate. He focuses on changing Leia into a lavender onesie, and how she glares up at him as fiercely as a rancor. Here and now, trooper. There’s lives counting on you.

“You want to change Luke while I handle breakfast?” Anakin asks, coming up behind him on too-quiet feet.

“Sounds like a plan, sir,” Rex says. He feels a hand on his elbow, and turns a shade.

“I’m stable, now,” Anakin says, quiet and guilty. “I can handle the twins for the day. Mourn your brothers, Captain.”

“I’m...” he isn’t sure how. “We need to figure out money, how we’re going to support--”

“Rex,” Anakin says, stepping closer and looking down with eyes that are just as emotionally exhausted as Rex feels. “Please. You handled things while I was out of it, so just... let me return the favor. I’m not going to break today. Let yourself have a moment.”

“I can’t, sir.”

“I could make it an order,” Anakin says quietly. “If... if that would help.”

Rex’s eyes stay fixed on his hands, still and unseeing.

“I need to repaint my armor,” he says, because it’s all he can. “But I don’t have paint.”

“What color do you need?” Anakin asks.

“Grey,” he says. “Black.”

He brushes the backs of his knuckles on Leia’s cheeks. “I’ll... keep some of the blue and white.”

The plastoid would get him laughed out of any Mandalorian bar, even now before the clone armies are a twinkle in anyone’s eye, but it’s his. And he needs to have it mean something more than just his legion. The 501st doesn’t even exist, so the colors only mean what the Mandalorians say, and--and what meaning Rex gives them.

He’s not even Mando’ade, not really.

“Rex?”

“Would you be willing to go into town with me?” Rex asks, his voice catching and cracking on the words. “When I buy the paint.”

“Of course,” Anakin says. “Do you want to go today?”

“I... yeah. That would be nice.”

“Then we’ll go today. After breakfast.”

---------------

Armor colors and meanings for Mandalorians, per Wookiepedia: Gray=Mourning a Lost Love (which I am interpreting as including non-romantic love) Black=Justice Blue=Reliability White= A New Start

[headgehug]

my little “i want you back” fashion review (part one)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

reviewing every outfit worn by the main six characters in I Want You Back.

It’s a cute dress! I would wear it to work, she would wear it to break up with her sweet little boyfriend, it’s great how everyone’s fashion sense is so unique!

Honestly you can’t go wrong with a classic, earth-toned sweater and slacks combo. This sweater is exceptionally versatile– pair it with a simple brown jacket to wear outside, or wear it on its own to break out into tears during a round of “Happy Birthday.”

While I love the baby blue plaid and simple white long-sleeve pairing, it’s not exactly what you might want to wear to a romantic brunch. Or even a break-up brunch. Emma got the memo though– a gorgeous, lavender-tinted gray sweater, prince-of-wales patterned coat, adorable heart-shaped necklace (a locket, maybe?!) and jeans to dress it all down. Have a heart, Noah… she was too cute to get dumped right then.

First off, Anne may dress like your stereotypical English teacher, but I am such a huge fan of her outfit (does that say something about me? hm). And Peter’s sweater game is once again perfect– something light and soft to not take the attention away from the birthday girl, but still classy enough to look put together for when you’re interrupting an important lecture.

Yes, just yes. I know in my heart he’s only got boxers on below that depression-drinking shirt, and that he has never, ever just worn his boxers around the house like that before. I mean, why bother anymore?

Noah’s outfit is fine, it’s boring, that’s good. Emma, girl, what? It’s like she took an old highschool track hoodie, cut the sleeves off, kept the wristbands, and put those back on to finish the look off. It’s bad, just… bad.

I love the texture on Anne’s sweater! That green jacket on Peter looks very cozy, white sneakers match just about anything too. Anyone else thinking about how scuffed up their front door must have been after this though…

This is a “oh god, the movers are coming today and I haven’t done laundry yet because we bought the detergent together and it makes me cry, let me just throw a plaid shirt over the white tee I slept in” look if I’ve ever seen one.

Complementary outfits are always a hit!

That is Noah’s robe for sure. This look isn't glamorous but it does the trick.

[bunny-witch-bitch]

What is this feeling again?

Word count: 748 words

(If you like it please reblog it)

She stood outside the entrance of her school, fidgeting and nervous. They’ve known each other since they were three. She’s liked Nathaniel ever since they both turned ten. 

She knew his favorite foods, his love of classical music, and even his fear of bugs.She could write essays on all of his freckles, his stormy gray eyes, the way that his hair swept to the side…She knew everything about him. So when she asked him to meet her at the front of the school and he seemed equally fidgety, she was overjoyed. 

His eyes shifted to the floor and he played with his hands. “I have something to tell you too…”

She spent all of the night before preparing for today. She watched plenty of makeup tutorials, videos on how to look cuter in front of guys, and how to make you sound more feminine while laughing. She practiced facial expressions and on-cue blushing for when she wanted to seem adorable. She went out and bought an emerald green sweater to go with her cream colored skirt. Green was his favorite color and she wanted him to associate it with her.

She bought cinnamon apple perfume. He loved apple pie. She didn’t care for the smell, but the only thing that mattered to her was that he thought she was beautiful. 

Her sister had helped her do her makeup. Showing her what each thing did, how to properly match her skin tone, what colors complemented her the most.

On her way to school she had bought a custom bouquet of sunflowers, complete with little flourishes of lavender. It was his favorite color combination. He loved the way sunflowers looked too, so it was going to be perfect.

She sat down on a bench while she waited. Going over her confession in her head for the tenth time in the last hour. He was going to be here any minute now…

She sprang from the bench. He was finally here. God did he look beautiful…his usually messy hair was combed, he was wearing a baby blue button up, which perfectly complimented his skin tone. There was a light dust of pink on his cheeks. Her heart sang. He was nervous too! 

He waved with one hand, playing with his bangs in the other. “Uhm…hey. Y- you wanted to…uh- tell me something?”

Her face flushed. She took a deep breath and held out his flowers and gummy bears (his favorite candy). This was it. This was her time. She looked down at the floor and began. 

“Nate…we’ve known eachother for a really long time now and-“ She paused, gathering her courage. 

“And I really really like you…as more than a best friend. I like you romantically…” She lowered her head, holding up her presents higher. 

“So would you please maybe go out with me?” Her words were rushed, but they got the message across.

His eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting this at all. When she peeked back up to look at him she saw all the color had drained from his face. 

A girl…no, girl didn’t do her justice. A woman with silky blonde hair, crystalline blue eyes, and fair, pale skin walked up. So unlike Christine’s rich brown skin, her mop of curly hair, and her dark brown eyes. This woman walked up and wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing him on the cheek. 

Oh

Her voice was pouty and playful, cute and precious as she spoke to him. “Baby~? Did you tell your bestie we’re a thing yet? I know you wanted to tell her first but I’m so excited I can’t waitttt.” 

Oh.

His face flushed. He sounded quieter than he usually was. His voice was incredibly soft. He spoke to the other girl in a way that was unknown to Christine. She had never heard him speak like this to her, so why this girl?

“One moment darling…I haven’t had a chance yet…” 

Oh. 

Christine stood silently. She didn’t hear a word he was saying. She saw his mouth moving but her vision was going blurry. She reached up to get pollen out of her eye. 

Why was there water on her fingers? She dropped her flowers. She dropped the gummy bears. And she turned around, muttering an excuse before sprinting away. Sparkling drops of salty tears flying out behind her.

Oh.

It was in that moment that Nathaniel saw how beautiful she really was. 

But by then it had been far too late.